Puffy Shoes and Girl Pants

I recently hired an intern at my place of employment. It seems to be en vogue these days. Interns are cheap and expendable and all sorts of fun. This one's no exception and we like him enough that we might keep him around for a while. He's proven that he's less expendable than the typical part-timer and he makes everyone laugh enough that we tolerate certain things.

I'm fully aware that what I'm about to write proves that my rapid spiral toward grumpy old manhood has accelerated to frightening levels, still, I'm mystified. I'd heard recently that young fellas had taken to wearing women's pants. I guess girls' pants is probably a better description. My sister had detailed the phenomenon, but I guess I was still skeptical. Until the Intern starting looking for girl pants on his lunch break. I shouldn't exaggerate. He's only looked once during lunch that I'm aware of. Today, in fact. We had some tasty sandwiches at Quizno's and then we saw a li'l Tent Sale in the parking lot. We skipped over and soon the Intern was spinning through a couple racks of size 2s (he's a slim cat). It should've stopped there, but soon we were headed into the adjoining retail space of the tent-saling shop to check out their on-hand selection of super-slim jeans.

I won't pretend to understand what's happening here. I find it amusing and a li'l strange. Kinda like the disturbingly puffy skate shoes that somehow match up with the feminine pantalones. It takes all my strength to maintain some sense of hip. I'm just a pair of man-capris away from some sort of "I'd like to round them all up and give them a haircut" diatribe. It's pathetic. I'm 29 and I act like I'm 63. As long as the local Denny's doesn't change the early bird specials, I might have a chance at surviving the future.