Once upon a time I was freshly out of U of M with my Commerce degree clutched in my hot little hand. I had a job that I hated and m'boyfriend (now husband!) had gone back to K-Town for the summer, to work at the mill and make the big bucks.
I came home from working at my crappy job (it paid the bills, was in my field, but it. just. sucked.), put on a big old t-shirt, and curled up on the couch with a cozy blanky while deciding what I would do about supper. About 2 hours later The Bro came by with his girlfriend (now my sister-in-law!), walked into my (apparently unlocked) apartment, woke me up and said "Let's go for supper!" I groggily looked up at him through my sleep-filled eyes and said "I'm not wearing any pants."
The Bro thinks this is the funniest damn story EVER and likes to repeat it at family functions several times a year. He will be so pleased when he sees this picture of his favourite niece:
Pants are SO overrated.