MANPANTS DOES MANPANTS THINGS. WITH NO PROMPTING.

Hmmm, what could that mean, pray tell? Get your minds out of the gutter people. Honestly....What it means is that while I was off slaving at the Math Lab...no that’s wrong. One does not slave at the Math Lab. One undergoes torture in the Math Lab. I was being tortured with percentage formulas. So torturous it was, that the tutor, who is a whiz at higher math, was quite frankly, a bit stumped. Or maybe it was my brilliant and overpowering presence that had him so rattled. I’ll live my little dream...

Meanwhile, while I was being tortured in the Math Lab, Manpants, independent of prompting, begging, suggesting, bugging or any other synonym for what some sensitive types like to refer to as “nagging,” decided to do some fixing of things around the ole abode. Things I would probably eventually do myself in a fit of pique. Things that would be nicer done by someone else not possessed by my particular brand of neurotic domestic tendencies. Things that required new fixtures, hardware and power tools. Things that come with directions. Directions that he could choose not to read. Upon arriving home, I was met at the door by Manpants, doing the Manpants dance, singing the Manpants song (which involves something akin to “Gonna Fly Now” from Rocky morphed with anything by Guns n Roses and him holding up one arm like Charles Atlas saying, “Look at that arm! Forgot about it, didn’t ya?”). I looked at him, puzzled.

Manpants: “My first day off in 12 days, and what did I think about? YOU.”

No, he does not have an available brother.