Cargo Pants

I got cargo pants for Christmas.  I’m not sure why. 

Don’t get me wrong, they’re comfortable and they look good on me, but I’m not sure what the hell I would do with all those pockets.

I thought about going to a bulk candy store, buying to my heart’s content, and refusing a bag to carry out the goodies.

Because they don’t even offer shopping carts, I thought about going to a thrift store and filling them with other peoples’ trash.

Maybe I should go adopt some pets and keep them in my pants (who could hate a guy with pockets full of puppies?).

I suppose I could do what my friend does and keep his loaded handgun readily available in a Velcroed-pocket fortress.

Instead, I just filled it with whatever I had available: my wallet, an iPod, a decade-old cell phone, a pocket knife that I’ve never used, some change, a granola bar, a book I might want to read, a condom (cuz you never know), some movie stubs in case I want to go back in time and see it again for free, some kleenex, my house keys, my car keys, my work keys, and a few copies of Tiny Life in case I run into a potential buyer.