There's a Satyr in the House - Quick! Get My Pan Flute!

That's right. A satyr. You know. Those goat legged things from mythology class. Hairy goat legs. Yes. Those.

And no, this is not a post about how I hate and refuse to shave my legs. Because I do shave them. Often.

This is about pants. I was at a department store the other day and they had these big, bulky, fuzzy, furry, fleecy, ginormous pants for sale. They looked so so so cozy and warm. I've seen these all over the place this holiday season. I've seen them in the kids department with cutesy pictures of sheep and kitties and unicorns and hearts and rainbows all over them. I've seen them in the woman's department with animal print patterns and pictures of clouds and flowers and duckies and hearts all over them. And I've seen them in the men's department in dark manly colors. All are fuzzy. All are fluffy and warm. All are slightly ridiculous. You know the ones I mean.

So what did I do? Yes, I admit it. I bought a pair. For lounging around the house. Why, oh why would I do such a thing? Because they looked so warm and cozy. And winter here can be so cold and long. Admit it, you've thought of getting yourself a pair too.

And being me, and being tall and having a slight aversion to print pants, I got them in the men's department. Getting them there almost guarantees they will be long enough, whereas if I get pants in the women's department it virually guarantees they will be several inches above my ankle bone. (and really, who wants cold ankles?) It also guarantees that I won't have to walk around in sheep, rainbows or kittens. I mean, these huge furry things are ridiculous enough without covering them in some cutesy print pattern. Let's try to be a little subtle here, OK? And another plus is that the men's version often have pockets, which the women's version often do not.

So, dig if you will, a picture. (no, I can't just say, "picture this". It comes from hearing Prince too much in the 80's. I've been corrupted.) So, like I said, dig if you will, a picture, of me in these fuzzy pants. Very thick pants. Very bulky - the waist cinched in because they are a little too big, the pockets, bulky and lumpy around my hips. Very attractive, no?

So, anyway, I was wearing these pants the other morning before breakfast. The hubinator noticed them. I mean, how could he not, the bulk made it hard for him to squeeze past. It went something like this:

Hubby: (slightly incredulous) What are you wearing?
Me: Um, fuzzy pants.
Hubby: Those certainly are some fuzzy pants!
Hubby: It's like living with a satyr.
Hubby: All you need is a pan flute.

Needless to say, we both broke down in hysterical laughter. Both from the comments and from the sheer ridiculousness of those giant, fuzzy, bulky, but oh so cozy and warm, goat-leg-pants.

You should get some. If for no other reason than the entertainment value.

Quack!