Every time I get a new job, I am gripped with an irresistible urge to spend some of the money I don’t yet have. It’s hardly smart financial planning, but what’s a boy to do when the urge to consume overcomes him? There is no hope of resistance; the best I can hope to do is to rein in my worst instincts until I actually get a check to cash, so in the interest of rationalization, I decided that I would buy a new pair of pants: something appropriate for work, and yet casual enough for going out. So off I went in search of some nice summery dress pants.

And back home I came a few hours later, utterly defeated and fully aware of my ignorance when it comes to how to dress myself. Those of you who know me know that I’m not exactly the guy who’s constantly on the edge of the latest styles; I’ve always been the guy who buys his clothes a size too big, because then everything is equally, safely ill-fitting. The problem with this is that I have completely failed to develop an ability to tell whether or not a pair of pants actually looks good on me or not. I mean, I know that women have it really bad and all when it comes to finding decent clothes, and that whatever hangups I have are all in my head, but honestly, I can hardly walk into a store without feeling terribly intimidated — or terribly uninspired (I’m talking to you, Marshall Fields).

So I gave up altogether and bought myself a PSP instead. My dreams of impressing clients and friends with my stunning modishness may never come true, but at least I’ll be able to play Lumines on the bus. In my frumpy old cargo pants.