Sunday, July 27, 2008

Jason's pants.

Somehow, my decidedly metrosexual husband is the hardest person alive on a pair of pants.

I'm totally not kidding when I say he has to buy new pants several times a year. He works in an office. At a desk. He's not out running around. He never has to fix things. He's not even like those kids on the Gap commercials from a few years ago. Yet? Somehow his chinos always end up with holes in them after only a few months.

Additionally? He is EXTRAORDINARILY picky about his clothes. Shocking, I know.

To make it all extra fun? He's a really unusual size.

Thus? When he found out recently that the Izod outlet where he has purchased his pants for the last four years no longer stocks his favorites? Well. I thought I was going to have to drive him to the hospital. You know how he was about his beard brush? Multiply that by about 9000 and you've got the reaction to the no-longer-in-stock pants.

Since, clearly, this would not do at all, he conducted an exhaustive search for pants (which included, and you just wish I was kidding about his, insisting to people at the local JcPenney store that the Izod website said they stocked that type of pants and couldn't they just check again?) and finally managed to locate ONE pair at a local Belk's store. Which I graciously agree to go procure since he was cutting up the trees in our yard with a borrowed chainsaw.

So I go to the store and the dear, sweet lovely lady behind the counter? Is approximately two hundred.

I said, "My husband called and someone set aside some pants for him."

She looked utterly perplexed. Seriously, so perplexed that, despite her huge namebadge that said, "HAZEL" and "BELKS" I wasn't sure she worked there.

"Pants?" she said disorientedly (is that a word? I'm calling it a word).

"Yes," I said slowly. "Izod chinos?"

She looked like I had just stabbed her husband.


See, sometimes I forget that I live in East Tennessee and people don't say things like "chinos" or "excuse me" or "yes, I went to Yale".

Okay that was mean as hell. I'm sorry.

Anyway, I said, "You know. Khaki pants?"

She walked around the counter to where a large rack of clothing was hanging. I could see, clearly, a pair of Izod Chinos (sorry, KHAKI PANTS) on the rack that had a large label on them that said, "Hold for Jason".

"Those," I said, pointing. "My husband's name is Jason."

She looked at me and smiled. I swear I thought she understood me.

She then looked through the entire rack of clothing. Piece by piece.

"I think it's those," I said, walking over to get closer and pointing again.

"What's your husband's name?"

"Jason. See? Those say Jason."

"What's his last name though?"

"He didn't GIVE his last name," I said. "He told me before I left the house that he just said 'Jason'. Those are the only Izod pants on the rack. Those must be his."

She looked unsure.

"Why wouldn't he give his last name?" she looked perplexed. "That doesn't make sense. What if these aren't his pants?"

"Ma'am," I said patiently. "My husband's name is Jason. This is his size and his brand. Also? I have cash money. I will pay you for those pants. If they belong to some other man named Jason who just happens to be that same size and will only wear Izod chinos with the pleat in the front and the cuff at the bottom? Well, we can both feel very sad for him later."

She stared at me for a moment and then started to ring up the pants.

But first she couldn't find the price tag, even thought it was in her hand.
And then she tried to convince me to purchase a pair of Dockers.
And then she waxed poetic for a moment on the name Jason.
Then she told me her back hurt. Bless her heart.

Finally, she scanned the bar code. For the love of Christ.

"Can I have your phone number?"

I told her. Her face lit up in recognition.

"I live in the South part of town too!" she exclaimed. "I live..."

and then? And I'm totally not kidding about this. She gave me EXACT DIRECTIONS TO HER HOUSE. Then she DESCRIBED THE HOUSE.

Only. In. The. South.

I came home, threw the bag of pants at my beloved and said, "YOU HAD BETTER LOVE THESE PANTS SO MUCH YOU WOULD MARRY THEM IF I DIED."

He took them out of the bag and looked at them, "Thanks baby. I hope this line right here comes out. See how they sat folded on the shelf for so long? It makes that really weird line in the middle that you just can't get out no matter what you do. See? I really hope that comes out because that is just so weird. That little thin line. I hate that line, don't you?"

He looked up and I was staring at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Can I buy whatever drugs you and that old lady who sold me the pants are partaking of at the drug store? Or do I have to find a street dealer?"

The people? Wear. Me. Out.


J said...

D is seriously like that with his jeans. Places like Old Navy and every other store on Earth carry jeans that look faded or worn,so we can't shop there. Nope. We have to find jeans that, "don't look like someone wore them already and them put them on the shelf for me to buy". His jeans HAVE to look brand new. No fading, no little rips or lines in them. No. They have to be the purest blue of blue jeans with no signs of ever being worn before.

Because of this, the only jeans he will wear are the cargo style Wranglers that you can ONLY get at K-Mart. And? I will kill myself if they stop carrying them.

Frannie said...

for the love of God!

Rebecca said...

Oh my Lord, Chick, MY husband is the same way. A couple of years ago, Gap stopped carrying the style of pants that were the ONLY things my husband would wear. I thought he was gonna have to go nekkid for the rest of his life. Finally, after ordering/returning about 200 different pants from 8 dozen different stores, we finally hit on ones from LLBean that are acceptable. I ordered 2 pairs of every single color of that style, just so we have pants for years to case they stop making those. Men!!!

Kim said...

I swear stuff like that only happens to you!

Anonymous said...

Bless you for being so patient with Hazel and Jason. LOL

My husband wears khaki pants every day to work. I'm so lucky he's never worn Izod pants. He usually wears Dockers or Savane. But I think I've seen Izod pants at SteinMart (if you have a store there).

Dawn~a~Bon said...

Absolutely classic.

BandK said...

Hopefully in the future you can just order them directly from the Izod website and never have to go through Hazel ever again!

Unless she gets a job as a UPS driver, and then of course, since she lives in your neighborhood, would be assigned your route, and every time you ordered the pants, she would deliver them, and you get to see her all the time! Hey! LOL

I'll bet that whole "metrosexual" thing goes over real well there in the south. Maybe that's the real reason they fired him at his old job; perhaps they thought he was "one o' them queers." Heh

So here's my OCD story. Yes, the type of thing you describe is OCD. Also? That commenter up there, "J"? She talked about her husband that has to have the absolutely pristine jeans? Well, here's me. I can't have a dented package in the store. Doesn't matter what it is -- can of soup, box of cereal, or a book in the bookstore -- I will paw through every single item on the shelf looking for the one that doesn't have a flaw -- not even a tiny bit of torn label, or a box that is slightly bent. I shriek in horror if the top of the cereal box was at the edge of the box they came in and got sliced with the stocker's box cutters.

Yeah it's like that. I guess we all have our quirks!

BandK said...

And yesterday when we went grocery shopping? My husband put the package of pork chops in the bag sideways, and all the pork chops slid down to one side. I wanted to take them back; seriously! I resisted, but it was really hard. I tried to shake them back into place before I put them into the freezer. Then I couldn't, so I just jammed the package in there so I wouldn't have to look at it anymore.


Anonymous said...

See now? Don't you feel better?

God bless the blog.

It's cheap therapy!

Patiently waiting said...

I just have to say it..."Jason, for the love of God!" :-) Great post!

Anonymous said...

Your husband is a fucking queer.

Stephanie said...

HAHAHA! I am glad my husband wears whatever I buy him, as long as they don't have pleats, pleats make him "look fat". :P

I have shopped in TN and I feel your pain, there is no hurry in the south. And then in MA everyone is in a big freaking rush.

Suzy said...

For starters, I know people who have been to YALE. lol.

That was such a great post. The whole Hazel story and the directions to her house part made me realize that even though it was funny, she liked you, was really lonely and was hoping you'd come visit her. Now I'm in tears. I hope you're happy!

Captain Steve said...

wooooo. That is some serious metro. I have never been that particular with any item of clothing, ever.

Tarasview said...

who knew there were so many similarities between hick town Saskatchewan Canada (where I live) and the deep south! I had no idea. But I think that old lady might also work at our local clothing store.

Sweetpea said...

OCD it's good for you and it's good for me! What is it with men and all their rules for pants? I only have 2 rules for pants.
1. I can fit my fat ass in them.
2. The sight of my fat ass in them doesn't make me want to kill myself.

EE said...

LOL! Aren't you glad he didn't send you over there to buy tank tops????

Anonymous said...

Hey anonymous...whats wrong with being a fucking queer?

Hey chick, sit next to you at lunch tomor....oh wait, sorry, thought it was middle school again.

Amy W said...

I really didn't know what chinos were....(hanging head in shame)

Angie said...

So, does Hazel live near me, too?

. . .thought so.

Makes one so proud of one's hometown, doesn't it?

dennis said...

Seriously, Khakis are called Chinos?

I did not know. They have always been Khakis to me. In fact, until you mentioned that they were the same as Chinos, I had no idea what Chinos were. I thought they were some form of women's shoes.

Dawn~a~Bon said...

Anon, the fact that he didn't want your sorry ass doesn't make him a "queer." Get over it, get some counseling, move on with your damn life!

Laura said...

OH MY WORD!! I was literally laughing out loud!!!!

arent those conversations just the MOST frustrating! I have them regularly with our post office!

Anonymous said...

This is a fantastic story!! Holy crap, I was loving it. Sadly, I'm the same with stuff. Clothes, shoes, make-up, etc. And, of course, as soon as I determine I LOVE something OH SO MUCH, the maker of that something does something to screw with me.

So, I feel for Jason. But, I feel your pain, too :)

Jana said...

OMG!!! That is SO FUNNY!! Girl, you had some patience with Hazel! And Jason...
YOU are such a good wife!

Tricia said...

J, I have to agree with D. I don't want to go spend money on pants that look like someone wore them already. I am constantly saying, "No do you have any WITHOUT holes in them?"

And ummm...what is Jason going to do next time?

KrustyLynn said...

SO funny!!

I think that might have been my grandmother who helped you.

Just kidding...but really. My grandmother can go on and on about things like what she ate for supper and when the last time she pooped was.


kristi said...

Oh my gosh. Poor old people. I get phone calls from them a lot! They just want someone to talk to. They always do this to me when I am extremely busy.....or trying to read blogs!

My hubs, he is the same way. I don't wash his clothes anymore because he is too damn picky.

Anonymous said...

Oh this made me laugh so damn hard today. I worked in retail for several years and I can SO relate to the elderly lady scenario. Oh can I.

She told you how exactly to get to her house???!!! Holy crap.

Jason, you had better LOVE those damn pants! Or I can see your future. You wearing holey pants. Not good times.

Anonymous said...

If I see a story on the Today Show tomorrow that some husband in Tennessee was strangled with a pair of Izod chinos (because Matt Lauer would NEVER call them khakis), I will know it's you, and I will understand.

Anonymous said...

Oh my goodness, he is odd about his pants, isn't he?

Debby said...

You need a stiff drink, dear. And when you're done knocking back the bottle, use it to wallop your husband if he's still going on about that thin line...

Rachel (Crazy-Is) said...

Oh my fuck that was funny!!!!

I would have to inform Jason that from now on, buying pants will be his job. Period.

PaintedPromise said...

ok i about busted a gut, both reading your blog on this AND reading the comments...

Cristin - middle school - GREAT CALL!!!

Wenderina said...

You've been bloggin' too fast for me so I'm just chasing backwards to catch what I missed. Holy Hell this one was funny - and I can totally relate. Does your hubby get that wierd wallet shaped white box on this back pocket? And my hubby has scoured the earth to find that exact pair of chinos with flat front, no-iron, specific color khaki in the totally hardest to find size ever.