Good morning. This is an upside down picture (I think? I can't tell what that is to be honest) of the side zipper on the hip of my pants. And also a mole I didn’t know about.

Like many, my least favorite part of getting ready for work is having to figure out what I’m going to wear. For that reason, I tend to mentally pick out my outfit the night before so I can quickly throw on something that’s clean (i.e. been Febreezed since last wear) and decent (i.e. not my favorite halter top) for the office when I’m already running 15-20 minutes late because Ellen had the cast of Jersey Shore on and damn you if I’m going to miss that.



Anyway, yesterday morning I went to put these pants on when I realized the zipper had become detached from the…zipper (??). Too lazy to try and figure something else out, and because I was pairing the pants with a shirt that was designed to be worn untucked and therefore would cover the broken zipper, I safety pinned the top together and went along my merry way.


The problem started when I actually got to work and sat down. See, about a month ago, I consumed approximately 600 Pringle chips over the course of maybe 10 days. And my pants have had enough of my shit already. So, when I sat down in my chair, the safety pin popped off…I fixed it…it popped off…I fixed it…it popped off. And repeat. Finally, I decided I would just lose the safety pin altogether and only put it back on when I needed to stand up and walk around.


But once the safety pin was off for good, I kinda liked the more loosely fitting pant and eventually, just stopped putting the pin back on entirely when I would stroll around the office to work (go over to my friend’s desk to play with his drumsticks on the floor, participate in a security training video and then demand the staff person who arranged it buy me coffee for my acting contribution and prank call my step-sister – you know, that sort of work stuff).

It wasn’t until I was walking down the hallway to go listen to Willow Smith’s new jam on my friend’s iPod that a coworker, that I do not know well at all, stopped and said, “Are you limping? It’s like one of your legs is dragging or something.” Turns out my pants were pretty much falling off, but I was so enjoying the baggy fit, that I didn’t even notice or care that I was practically stripping at work. Needless to say, when people you don’t know have to question your mobility skills because you refuse to properly dress yourself, well….I don’t know why I said “needless to say”. People think I have a broken leg. And I don't. So there's that.


(Yes, those are white pants after Labor Day. I think that rule is lame and really only applies to weddings. Except for my wedding. Wear whatever you want as I certainly won’t be in white. I’m thinking “My twenties are a total blur cream” meets “No, this man is not drugged and just ignore those handcuffs he has on. We’re kinky like that”).


Finally, and for reasons that are a waste of everyone's time, my dad and my step-mom regularly send me bars of soap and boxes of coffee beans. I really love the soap and I really love the coffee – and they do too – so basically, boring story already too long, whenever they order some for themselves – they order some for me. I receive shipments of both approximately once every six weeks. I got a text message from my step-mom earlier this month asking if I needed coffee as she was about to order some for herself. I have posted part of that conversation below. Please see my step-mom’s final reply. Just tell me how you would have handled the word “retardundo” because I still haven’t come up with anything.

Have a great day, everyone. I think you're pretty. Pretty retardundo, that is! Hahahaha! Gotcha!