And I don't even care--to shake these zipper blues...

Today, my mom has threatened to make me go pants shopping. She says she won't let me keep coming to work in the same two pairs of pants week after week. I'm not sure what the problem is...I mean, sure, they have a few holes in them and in places they're so thin that you can count the change in my pocket, but it's just for work, right?

I don't know what it is about pants. I hate shopping for them. A close second in personal-shopping-hatred is shopping for underwear or socks, but at least sock shopping doesn't take as long and I don't have to keep going into that tiny little Death-Star-trash-compactor-like changing room, that I SWEAR they make smaller the longer you're in there to get you out and buying things faster. It's all a conspiracy, see?

Maybe it's the fact that I have to keep taking my pants off in public. I mean, sure, you have a door or a curtain between you and any prying eyes that might want to stare at your pasty-white hairy legs. But you're still in an uncomfortable, cramped space, whipping off your pants repeatedly and replacing them with a new, stiff, ill-fitting pair in the vain hope of finding something comfortable and flattering.

And what's with pants these days, anyway? If I don't want something that belongs on a parachute, I'm out of luck. But y'know, I might regret passing on them the next time I'm falling out of a plane and I only have my pants to save me. Or maybe something covered in zippers and buckles? You know, just in case I wanted to lash a snow shovel to my leg or suddenly have access to the back of my knee. Or worse still, something acid-washed. Just when you thought the David Lee-Roth's of the world had completely vanished into obscurity, fricken' acid wash had to come back. I'm waiting for the fire and brimstone to start raining down any day now, because if acid wash isn't a sign of the Apocalypse, I don't know what is.

Fortunately, I'm shopping for work pants, which makes things a wee bit easier. But work pants are dull and boring. There's nothing worse than trying on eight hundred pairs of pants that all look the same and not one of them fits properly. I'm thinking something in dull grey or khaki. My enthusiasm knows no bounds.

Maybe I'll just buy some more shirts, instead.