the dark side of a lounge pants obsession

It’s probably the Katwise thing (see yesterday’s post), plus Sophie doing a bunch of sewing with her great aunt (who is a master seamstress) (I covet Sophie’s adorable new bag made from too-small favorite jeans with rhinestones and rainbow lining, by the way), plus Luc just got this rocking pair of pirate pajama pants at a yard sale and I WANT THEM only, you know, they don’t fit, plus, oh, I don’t know, I’m supposed to be finishing this NOVEL, oh yeah THAT. All of these things add up to my new total obsession with all things LOUNGE PANTS.

As in, I want to make some. A bunch of pairs.  And what’s up with that, calling what is clearly a single item a pair?  I know there are two legs, as in a pair of them, yada yada, but really, the whole pantS as plural thing makes no sense.  But I don’t care I want to wear nothing but lounge pants plural or singular, I want them in all colors, especially pirate. I’m going to wear them on my arms, too. And my head. The kids will wear them. Paul will wear them. I’m going to make some for the dog. I may have lost my mind. But  I’m sure wearing some lounge pants will help with that.

I love this photo I ran across when googling “pirate lounge pants.”

Some intrepid mom has made pirate lounge pants for her entire family! I’m totally going to do this.

I like stripes, too, still the pirate-y theme, sort of,

Or maybe horizontal?

Okay, maybe not.  (Does my fat ass make my fat ass look big?)

But really, don’t these pants look all loungy? Don’t they make you just want to lounge around?

Or, you know, maybe if we’re going to have men in lounge pants…

Uh, what was I saying?  Oh yes!  Lounge pants!  (You would not believe what google gives you if you put in “sexy man in lounge pants.” Ahem.)

And let me go on record right now against the controversial topic of words on the butt of lounge pants.  You know what I mean, pants that have “sweet” or “butter” or something that canNOT help but seem like a euphemism for something nasty when on someone’s (usually a pretty girl’s) bum.  I don’t know who started this but it’s just wrong.  Because, hey, if you’ve got a nice ass, you don’t want to mess up the view with some silly word.

Anyway.  I totally want some lounge pants with cupcakes on them.

Or a COMBO, pirate cupcake!

YES!  YES!  It’s perfect!

Oh, wait a minute, it isn’t even a picture of lounge pants.

STAY ON TARGET, LASSITER.

There.  Whew.  I kind of got lost in the frenzy there for a moment.  But look at these lovely lounge pants!  I must have a dozen pairs of these at once!

Of course this means trying to locate my old Singer sewing machine in my mother’s attic (put in storage when we moved from the rambling farm house to the 700 square foot yurt) and seeing if it still works after 8 years of disuse.   It’s over 100 years old, purchased for $20 bucks at the thrift store, a FIND. I have made many, many things on that baby, skirts, quilts, halloween costumes.  No lounge pants, though.  Until now.

There’s a project for us!  Pack the kids in the car for a four hour drive to my mother’s place to find the sewing machine!  That should take DAYS.  And that’s all before I actually start sewing!

Because CLEARLY I have gone OFF THE DEEP END because what I am SUPPOSED to be doing right now is EDITING MY FUCKING NOVEL which supposedly is going to be PUBLISHED IN A FEW SHORT WEEKS WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING GOING ON AND ON ABOUT FUCKING LOUNGE FUCKING PANTS????  [tearing own hair out]

This is all totally par for the course, of course.  Procrastination is an art form, a CRUCIAL part of the creative process, and I stand by that.  While wearing lounge pants.

Fuck me.  Maybe I just need a vacation.

Where I do a lot of lounging.  In pants.

(I’ve typed “lounge” so many times now that it looks like a foreign language word and I’ve had to google it to make sure I’m spelling it right.  Twice.)

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