If It Feels Good Do It

I spent half of Saturday recovering from a drunk and stoned Friday night. In other words, I took a nap.

The other half I spent at two different barbecues. Sum total of evites for the weekend was three, including my lawyer’s birthday celebration on Friday. Just try to beat that shit. You can’t.

I DON’T KNOW ABOUT YOU, PERIOD

The second barbecue was thrown by a guy I knew from grad school who got a PhD and now works for Google. We used to work in the same lab. He has a history of criticizing me and generally telling people what to do. I’ll call him C, as in Cock.

Some of you probably think you have an idea where this is going. Some of you probably do.

Despite the annoying characteristics of his personality I would easily refer to him as a friend. As I have said I have no standards.

He invited me to his barbecue. That was nice. But then he acted distant from the beginning. I’m not sure what that was all about. Maybe he read what I had to say about Googlers. I certainly hope so.

Finally I just went up to him.

“Hey C, what’s up man. Come here man.”

I gave him one of those handshake hugs.

“Ah ha ha. Hi, Ian. Yes, man hug, man hug. Ha ha.”

My gesture of good will had blown his mind.

“So Ian, looking good. Let’s see… man, those are nice pants.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Nice pants indeed. I bought these Monarchy pants the last time I was in Vegas. God damn I looked good in them.

“How much did you pay for those?”

“Well. Uh. Guess.”

“Oh, I don’t know Ian. Probably too much.”

“Ha ha.”

“$50.”

“Ha ha, higher.”

“Oh man. You didn’t… $70.”

Blah blah blah. It went on like this for some time until I revealed to him that I spent approximately $200 on my pants.

“What?! You spent two hundred dollars on pants????”

He was disgusted and in shock. It was like I had just said “I’m a registered sex offender.”

I tried to justify the purchase.

“Well, I mean, I don’t buy that much in the way of clothing. I really thought-”

“What? No way!! You spent more than a hundred dollars on pants?? That’s horrible. I don’t know about you.”

He started to walk away.

I looked in C’s hand. What a surprise, he was holding a digital camera. He was on his way to take pictures and be boring.

“I bet you spent more than one hundred dollars on that camera.”

He turned around.

“Uh. Yeah I did.”

Is spending more than $100 on a digital camera morally superior to spending more than $100 on a pair of pants? If so, then fuck morality.

“Well, see: I didn’t buy a camera. Fuck digital cameras. People take pictures of me.”

“Uh…”

He walked away faster. Maybe he thought I was going to give him a beat down. If so, he was right.

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE

C recently bought a house. What a coincidence: C recently bought a house, and C invited me to a barbecue for the first time ever.

When I was leaving the barbecue I got C’s phone number. I envisioned having lunch with him and telling him just how annoying he was to his face. I’m into that kind of thing.

But as I was walking to my truck he brought up my pants again.

“Goodbye to you and your two hundred dollar pants.”

“What?”

“Well uh, those are some expensive pants.”

I looked at C standing there in the moonlight in front of his San Jose 3/1.

“How much did you spend on your house?”

There was nothing he could say. He spends more in property taxes every month than I spent on my pants.

Well, he did say something after forming a deer in the headlights look.

“Uhhhhh… spent… too much.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you did. And let me tell you something: I have way more fun with these pair of pants than you do with your house.”

He knew I was right. He wanted to be me but he wasn’t. He walked back inside to his boring life.

CONCLUSION

My pants are a gift to humanity that everyone wants to get inside of.

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