Sunday, February 27, 2011

Pant Girl and the Defective Pants: Part I

A couple of days ago I wrote about Pants Girl and her Law-breaking Manager.

Well the story doesn't end there.  If you remember, "Pants Girl" A. K. A. "Snoopy" brought me some pants to alter since my name is practically "Elisa the Alterer."  I hate altering clothes, but she was so nice, so absolutely sweet I bent my seam-ripping hatred for her.

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I've hated altering ever since some gem in the community volunteered me to fix everybody's clothes.  Men's zippers are the worst and that's what needed fixing last year.  I couldn't fathom how so many men kept breaking their zippers.  It felt like a big, fat zipper funeral everyday for months!  Plus, I don't like altering those since I know where they've been.  But I've fixed so many that maybe (when I die) God will remember how much I did, and how it made me bitterly hate zippers and men who break them.

Have you ever heard that scripture about how God puts names in the lambs book of life?

Nothing impure will ever enter it, nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb’s book of life.

If I'm lucky enough to enter Heaven and thus be in that book, I bet my name says: "Elisa the Alterer."  Don't ask me how I know that, I just do . . . because that's why God will forgive me for being a shmuck-hater; He'll forgive me since I altered all those gross zippers!

So, Snoopy gave me her pants, even though I'd cast off altering like it was a rotting potato. I went to hem her incredibly expensive pants and discovered something.  They were my size!  I looked around, even though I was alone in my room.  The pants were awesome; much more costly than something I'd ever buy.  So, like any good seamstress, I put the pants on.
*** Now hold up!  Before you tell me my name isn't in the lamb's book anymore, let me stop you right there.  She googled my name!  I was a stranger and she googled my name!  In fact, one of my dearest and favorite friends pointed out that "Snoopy" could be reading this . . . at this exact . . . moment!  If so, "Hi, Snoopy.  Please forgive me.  Great pants by the way."

But if she could google me, then I could try on her million dollars pants.  I know it was wrong, but I'm glad I did because they looked great!  I normally buy used jeans.  If I'm lucky I'll get those discount ones that are actually new.  I didn't think it mattered, not until I tried on Snoopy's jeans.  I felt like the main character in "The Little Princess," or Cinderella after the fairy does her thing.  I trotted around the room and before I could wipe the smile from my face I called my mom.

"You sound awfully happy today," she said,  "What's going on now?"


"I tried on Snoopy's pants."

"You did what?"  It was a reprimand.  She hushed though, and I wanted to know what else she was thinking so I waited quietly.  "And . . . how do they look?" she asked, a bit excited.

"Wonderful.  Almost as good as my boots.  But they probably cost more than my life is worth."

She had to know all the details then, the brand, the style.  I gave her all the dirt because I knew she wouldn't believe the jeans even if she saw them.  I didn't realize she'd had a plan as she took down the information.  I had no idea, until she showed up at my house and had a pair of Snoopy pants in her hands.

"Do you like them?" she asked.

I burst with emotion near tears.  "I LOVE my Snoopy pants," I said.  "I can't wait to wear them with My Boots!"

So, I dearly love my mother and those incredibly awesome Snoopy pants lit up my life.  I wish that's where the story could end, but it didn't stop there.  I think God punished me for trying on Snoopy's pants.  Is it okay if I write about it tomorrow?  I'm a bit mortified and don't have the courage to write it now.  Let me just leave you with one warning: If someone asks you to alter their pants DO NOT try them on, or God will make you pay.

I told my husband the whole story and he confirmed my suspicion.  "God must a done that to ya."  He chuckled.  "That's pretty funny though, I'm not gonna lie."

So, until tomorrow, when I grow the courage to write the rest of this story in my blog.
Why do I always have such crazy things happen to me?  Even when I'm trying to skirt imbecilic occurrences--they sniff me out!