Who Wears The Pants Around Here, Anyway?

Many of you that know me know that I don't give a rat's ass about football or any other sport. Which if you listen to the throngs of women who lament their husbands' devotion to sports should be good thing. Or so I thought.

My wife, who previously has only expressed occasional interest in sports and only if it involved a group of people, informed me mid-week that she needed to watch the Superbowl so that she would be able to talk about it on her business trip this week. Go figure.

Now, she had bought some new slacks for her trip, but they were an inch and a half too long. There wasn't any time to take them for professional alterations so I broke out the Singer manual for the sewing machine and started reading. That's right, while the Superbowl played in the den, I sat in the kitchen learning how to sew a blindstitch.

A blindstitch is particularly difficult because of having to tweak the settings on the machine to get it just right. The fact that the pants I was altering were purchased earlier in the day for $120.00 didn't help. Nor did the cursory instructions in the manual which amounted to three poorly illustrated steps.

In the end, the whole alteration took about three hours because there was a serious learning curve to overcome. But I must say that I'm really proud of the job I did. The pants look good.

Now, some of you might accuse me of being metrosexual for my transgression against THE testament to testosterone ("a lot of alliteration from anxious anchors"). But let me assure you I am not. For one, God didn't give me an affinity for hair care products...or the head of hair to use them on. And aren't footballs sewn, anyway? Damn right they are!