Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Spiraling down

Where are my pants??

Seriously, smart guy, tell me this: Where in the hell are my pants?! As my students are probably all-too-eager to share with you (and probably have), it's not like my pants wardrobe is endless. Basically I own five pairs of pants that I wear to work. My brown pants with the ridiculously saggy crotch; my three-inches-too-short blue pants; the khakis with the coffee stains in all the wrong places; my Clinton-era black jeans.

And my magic trousers that are olive in the light and brown in dim light.

That's not a lot of material to work with, right. We can be honest with one another. I'm not fooling anyone. So to lose a pair--and my favorite magic khaki-green pair at that--is just too much. Something has to give.

Where are they?

Check my closet, you say? Oh, I hadn't thought of that. Oh good, I'll check it out right away. My closet! No, I would have never thought of looking there. Please. Show me a a little respect. No, not my closet, fool.

Ahhh....well don't I play basketball sometimes and change into my gym clothes in my office? You are correct, sir. So perhaps they're in my office. That's true; they could be.

But on second thought, um, no they're not in my office.


Where exactly in my office would they be? Yes, please tell me. In my filing cabinets? Nope. I've checked. In my book shelves? I think someone would have noticed, don't you? Perhaps they are in the Happy Bowl that Brad DeMarea made in high school over twenty years ago? No, not there. I put neither my magic nor my non-magic trousers in the happy bowl. I put candies for students in the happy bowl. Why in the world would I put trousers, socks, boxers or mittens in the Happy Bowl? WHY?

I wouldn't, that's why.

You disappoint me.


Oh, here's an idea. I could just go trousers shopping. Yeah, like that's going to happen any time soon. Oh, I know, let me go to the store and find out that, holy crap, the way my waist is expanding I'm a month or two away from shopping exclusively in the Marlon Brando-size sections of the department store.

No, I don't think so. Reader, you're trying my patience.

Anyway, the spiral staircase is of a lighthouse. Like you needed to be told. Maybe I lost my pants there.



timekeeper said...

I am on it! I am greatly concerned with the state of your pants. I am going to send out a Faculty/Staff/Student-wide email asking if anyone has seen your pants. Next, I will update my fb status with a "is wondering where her husband's pants are" post. Then I will take out an ad in the Rome newspaper. Next, I will create a "Where's my dh's pants?" float in the Christmas parade and we will pass out fliers as we go down Broad Street. I will not rest until I have alerted everyone we know!

And watch who you're calling fool, pantless fool!

Michael B said...

At least one person cares for me welfare.

Technoprairie said...

I love these pictures. They make that spiral staircase look much more cool than it really was.

As to pants (which is almost TMI), I'm sure that it is timekeeper's fault. Remember that when you find them right in the drawer were they were supposed to be (but on the left side instead of the right). How dare she move them like that!

Michael B said...

Technoprairie--I like how you think. Just very much. Excellent post. Keep 'em coming.

justcurious said...

Tk - you forgot... if you call 911 about it, it'll be in the police beat.

justcurious said...

Did you perhaps get on that Pants Off Dance Off show?

Andy D. said...

I like Technoprairie's approach: it's best to just focus on the dang pictures. Ignore the pantless hubbub going on. Smart -- and very self-preservationist.

So my question -- did a couple of fellas live in this lighthouse? I mean what kind of uber-*** staircase is that supposed to be? I have never seen a spiral staircase -- whether in a lighthouse or otherwise -- that looked so, I don't know... Feminine. Spiral staircases are supposed to be made from black wrought iron, with welds dripping from each corner, as though pounded out by Thor the Blacksmith in between putting armor on the gladiator's chariots. Their purpose? As much to hold the entire structure up, as to allow people to go up and down (interesting historical note, while preventing horses from going up or down them...) Instead, this... This is more like it was neatly cut from a lacey doiley and designed to hold up a house of cards, MAYBE, on a good and still day.

Ok maybe I got a little hyper-focused on the pictures... but what's my alternative to talk about here?

Look mate, just find your pants please, and get us back to normalcy around here.

Timekeeper, let's try the Austin Powers "shhh" game with him.

"Where are my pan--"

"But I can't--"

"Knock knock?"
"Where are my pan--"

"If I could just get a word in--"
"--about my pan--"

For crying out loud...


Michael B said...

Justcurious: My pants are so ill-fitting that virtually every time I hear music it turns into a dance dance off pants off.

Andy D: For the record, this fabulously fierce lighthouse did NOT allow horses in it.

Only unicorns.

Julie said...

The artwork:
Love this series! Very "painterly". To me, the design makes the staircase origin not so important.
But, thank you Andy for the new historical perspective on spiral staircases. Who knew that such twirly, swirly, pretty things are supposed to be more manly.

the pants:
The mystery to me is why you and my husband must be sharing the same 5 sorry pairs of pants. Are you taking turns? The magic in the pants is in their refusal to ever match a shirt. They wait until one is chosen to decide which color they will be that day. So the loss may not be so bad. My theory, my husband is wearing those pants!

Steven Taylor said...

My brown pants with the ridiculously saggy crotch

Pretty much you lost me after that.

justcurious said...

Andy D - You got something against lace?

marmaladeinstead said...

One time I found a santa hat on the streets of Rome, Georgia. Maybe your pants are out there, too?

Anonymous said...

Your pants are in Lawler's office. You should kick your way in there, demand your pants, and when he denies it, use force. He'll probably even play that indignant card, or try to spin things around to try and make you look crazy, but you. know. Lawler. has. your. pants. Constant vigilance!