Whatever the opposite of a pants party is

Singing along to: Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova, You Ain't Goin' Nowhere

Is it bad that all I really want to do tonight--New Year's Eve, the last day of 2008, which was a pretty okay year--is work on my afghan, watch a movie, and maybe add some Bailey's to my coffee? Alone?

Yeah, it's probably bad. I'm blaming it on the fact that I am in A Mood, which I am blaming on pants, and the fact that I can't find any that fit and I really need some.

I am not blaming the fact that pants don't fit on my butt or my thighs or any of the usual suspects. Sure, I haven't been as healthy as I could be lately. Okay, it's showing a little bit. But I still basically like what I see in the mirror. Also, finding pants is hard even when I'm in good shape, because butt + thighs + 5'8" = really better off in skirts.

Except that it's winter and there are only so many days a week I can tolerate tights and I'm starting a new internship with a business casual dress code on Monday and this is what my pants wardrobe looks like: 2 pairs of dress pants, neither of which I like a whole lot. 1 pair of kinda-saggy khakis. 1 pair of jeans without any holes, not that they count as business casual anyway. (And only three pairs of jeans total.)

So yeah. A Mood.