Great New Pants
My wife bought me a new pair of pants, and I really do have to say that I like them.
They're jeans, although I don't know the brand (I think that's written on the back, and since I'm wearing them the name's a little hard to see). They're also the most expensive pair of jeans I've ever owned--they were originally $39, but they were on sale for $30. Granted, that's not exactly Girbaud prices--hello, 1989!--but it's twice what I normally pay for jeans. In fact, she told me that she bought them at Macy's, and my first question was "Maceys, the grocery store?" Because, really, if you don't buy your clothes at the grocery store, then you're spending too much money.
My wife's dad used to buy pants at Sutherland's--a lumber store. I like to buy them at Wal-Mart. And not the fancy, expensive Wal-Mart jeans, either. I buy the cheapest thing they sell. If they sold pants woven out of brown paper bags, I'd buy them. Perhaps this is why my wife decided it was time to do my shopping for me.
I have a little rule which makes my wife's life harder than it ought to be. It is this: "If you're going to get me a present, it had dang well better not be clothes."
I mean, I'm not exactly a fashion mess--I'm not like many of my fellow BYU students who show up to class in their pajamas--but I also think that clothing ought to be practical. If I can get a shirt for $10 and another shirt for $30, I'll take the $10 variety. As long as it keeps me warm and isn't too offensive, I'm okay with it.
That said, I'm liking the new pants. They're boot-cut, because my wife was apparently under the impression that I'm a cowboy. But no, I don't wear boots. In fact, I own just two pairs of shoes--sneakers for every day, and the Payless Specials for Sunday. But I'm liking the boot-cut; when I look down at my feet they look really small, because the pantleg is big. I don't know why this pleases me, but it does.
Also, I've discovered that more-expensive jeans fit better than cheap jeans. With my Wal-Mart jeans, they fit really poorly for about three months, after which they finally conform to my body. Then, a week later, they get a rip in the knee.
These new ones also had a tag on them saying that the the cotton contained dyes which could rub off onto stuff--it warned me to try to not let my pants come into contact with upholstery. What the heck? So, I can't ride in my car? Sit on my couch?
Ah well. Standing all day is a small price for having small feet.
Meanwhile, in Afghanistan, thousands of people are plotting to destroy the U.S.A. But, for now, I sure do like my pants!
They're jeans, although I don't know the brand (I think that's written on the back, and since I'm wearing them the name's a little hard to see). They're also the most expensive pair of jeans I've ever owned--they were originally $39, but they were on sale for $30. Granted, that's not exactly Girbaud prices--hello, 1989!--but it's twice what I normally pay for jeans. In fact, she told me that she bought them at Macy's, and my first question was "Maceys, the grocery store?" Because, really, if you don't buy your clothes at the grocery store, then you're spending too much money.
My wife's dad used to buy pants at Sutherland's--a lumber store. I like to buy them at Wal-Mart. And not the fancy, expensive Wal-Mart jeans, either. I buy the cheapest thing they sell. If they sold pants woven out of brown paper bags, I'd buy them. Perhaps this is why my wife decided it was time to do my shopping for me.
I have a little rule which makes my wife's life harder than it ought to be. It is this: "If you're going to get me a present, it had dang well better not be clothes."
I mean, I'm not exactly a fashion mess--I'm not like many of my fellow BYU students who show up to class in their pajamas--but I also think that clothing ought to be practical. If I can get a shirt for $10 and another shirt for $30, I'll take the $10 variety. As long as it keeps me warm and isn't too offensive, I'm okay with it.
That said, I'm liking the new pants. They're boot-cut, because my wife was apparently under the impression that I'm a cowboy. But no, I don't wear boots. In fact, I own just two pairs of shoes--sneakers for every day, and the Payless Specials for Sunday. But I'm liking the boot-cut; when I look down at my feet they look really small, because the pantleg is big. I don't know why this pleases me, but it does.
Also, I've discovered that more-expensive jeans fit better than cheap jeans. With my Wal-Mart jeans, they fit really poorly for about three months, after which they finally conform to my body. Then, a week later, they get a rip in the knee.
These new ones also had a tag on them saying that the the cotton contained dyes which could rub off onto stuff--it warned me to try to not let my pants come into contact with upholstery. What the heck? So, I can't ride in my car? Sit on my couch?
Ah well. Standing all day is a small price for having small feet.
Meanwhile, in Afghanistan, thousands of people are plotting to destroy the U.S.A. But, for now, I sure do like my pants!
RobisonWells — 3/04/2008 06:35:00 PM
8 comments
8 Comments:
A pair of jeans that fits well is something to celebrate. Congrats.
If you wore pants woven out of brown paper bags, wouldn't you be in danger of being arrested for rustling?
I think this is all made up. I'm guessing you hate the pants but you're feeling bad for not liking the casserole your wife made you on Sunday and you're trying to get back in her good graces. Cowboy up
I just don't buy clothes anymore.
Cause my size has probably gone up 5 or 6 sizes. But you have fun with your jeans Rob.
Ah Rob! Good jeans, not the kind that are already half worn out when you buy them, are supposed to be washed before you wear them--wash them alone or with other jeans you'd like to brighten up a bit. Add a bit of vinegar to the rinse water too and they'll stay new looking without fading onto seat covers, your underwear, etc. And in case you really think the object of boot cut jeans is to make your feet look small, let me assure you that the idea is even more practical. It's so you don't have to hunt up a boot jack and drag your boots off if you decide to change your jeans. Now that I've told you what you probably already know, I'll commend you for a blog on a subject critical to our time on this planet. Jeans matter; we measure our physical well-being by how well we fit into our jeans, we dress a good majority of our fictional characters in jeans, and we spend a good portion of our meager royalties on jeans. I salute your perception of life's true issues.
Wait a minute--aren't you the guy that is always splitting his pants at church? It is all becoming clear. . .
That was hilarious. Thank you Rob. I needed a good laugh today. :)
Julie Bellon (who is too lazy to sign in.)
Can't wait to see your small feet.
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