My On-again Off-again Relationship with Pants.

Monday, July 28, 2008 at 11:50pm
Here's the thing about me. I hate pants.
Perhaps it's the soul of the beach bum that I'm reincarnated from. Or maybe it's a Scottish thing. My ancestors chose fighting to the death over wearing pants when the English tried to ban the kilt. Whatever the case may be, it's an inescapable fact that I loathe pants.

The first thing that I do when I come home from work is cast off my pants (and socks, I hate freakin' socks too) with a vengeance. It's usually just a matter of minutes before I'm padding around barefoot in a pair of shorts.

So tonight I was talking to Janet on the phone. She's recently gone back to her job for a big raise.
I told her, “With that pay raise you're actually competitive with rig workers now!”

“Yeah, but I get to wear prettier shoes.” she chirped.

I then confessed to her that it might sound silly, but one of the things that I've been most looking forward to now that I'm a chef again, is being able to wear whatever I want to and from work.

“You can wear shorts to work!” she cheered.

“I haven't been able to wear shorts to work since my last chef job, like 10 years ago!” I said. “When I was in sales I had to wear pants, when I was managing bars I had to wear pants, when I was doing construction I had to wear pants.” She started laughing, and laughing really hard. I asked her “What's so funny?”

I could tell that she was laughing so hard that she was almost crying. Finally she managed to spit it out.

“I think that's probably why you've never really held down a job, because they make you wear pants.”

“You're making fun of me now aren't you?” I said.

“I'm serious.” she squealed through her laughter.

She didn't sound serious.

“Actually you might be on to something.” I admitted.

It's as good a reason as any.