Last Night I Dreamt…

December 31, 2011

And would it kill them to make 42x31 jeans? I can't believe I'm the only 42x31 in the world. Either I have to roll my jean hems up like a 50's era hoodlum, or have my wife hem them--and that never looks quite right--or they drag the ground like my son's. Which, don't get me started there. Pull your pants up! Am I right?

Of my father. Like I do every night.

Except instead of trying to instill wisdom into me by way of automotive maintenance, he was part of a group of middle aged men, who came out onto a darkened stage one at a time and extolled the virtues (and comedic mishaps) of relaxed fit stonewashed denim pants:

“They’re like my father’s chinos that he washed the car in. Except he only wore his chinos on Saturday and sometimes Sunday, and I wear these every day.”

“I was like, what the hell are all these pockets for? I’m no carpenter! I just want some hemmed jean shorts.”

Skinny jeans? Where I come from, those are called girl jeans.”

And I was one of an audience of thirty, maybe forty. You could feel the tension in the crowd, of a desperate desire for the Stonewashed Relaxed-Fit Denim Monologues to be funny, so that we could laugh.

But there was only that awkward coughing from time to time.

And fucking cell phones going off. Of course.


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