While I write about the evil that is pants here, generally this blog is meant to throw a humorous light on the hegemony of pants, particularly in the workplace.
Yesterday, though, my pants couldn't have been more irritating if they'd be made from porcupine quills. I couldn't wait to be home and be rid of them.
Sometimes all a man wants is to lay on the couch in his underwear, watch TV, and eat Cheetos.
I didn't watch TV. I didn't eat Cheetos. But I did crash on the couch in my boxer briefs and let the AC wash over me.
Our cats looked on in terror.
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