Ripped pants

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It's the first Friday in May and, right now, I'm not wearing pants.

If you want to see, check out my web cam for just $14.95 a minute...Just joking. I use my web cam for good, not Stevil.

Anyway I'm not wearing jeans, khakis, trousers, cords, pajama bottoms, ruggers, sweat pants, a snow suit, slacks or my old Jordache for a reason.

It's No Pants Day!

And, no, I wouldn't joke about something like that. See www.nopantsday.com/wp.

According to that site's FAQ section, No Pants Day is an occasion for everyone to leave their pants behind.

That usually means going to work in underwear.

Which is kinda what I'm doing.

I'm not in the office, but I'm sans-pants at the dining room table. (And, man, this wooden chair is cold.)

Anyway, hopefully blogging at home in your undies meets the criteria, because I'm not going to work without pants.

Fridays are the busiest day of the week. It would be too much of a distraction for the co-workers if I walked around with my bodybuilder-like legs, which have been well-chiseled through endless hours of squats and leg presses.

OK, that's not the reason.

I've actually got to wear pants because I'm too embarrassed about the huge tattoo on my upper thigh. It's the lyrics to the Macarena and depicts me doing that dance in lederhosen!

OK, OK, that's not the reason either. That ink was erased and replaced with the resurgence of The Bird Dance.

No, I'm wearing pants to work today because there's frost on the car this morning and I'm not freezing my behind off for any cheeky holiday.

Move it to July 32. I'd definitely do it then.

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