I had to work today--I found that to be terribly disruptive to my schedule. I've got a softball team to run, naps to take, and cat who's on 24-hour suicide watch. Who has time to work?

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I am a California boy through and through. Even though I wasn't born in this state, I have fully evolved into a Californian. I wear sandals whenever possible, fear the rain, and begin most sentences with dude. California is a lovely place to live--mainly 'cause we don't have seasons...dude. It's warm all the time here and you can wear the same clothes year round.

When I lived in New Jersey I remember we used to have summer clothes and winter clothes. Twice a year I would take a box out of the attic and empty its contents in my closet. When I was done, I would fill it up with clothes that formerly resided in the closet and store it in the attic. It was a cycle that had to be repeated because New Jersey has temperatures as extreme as Sanjaya's hair (did I just make an 'American Idol' reference).

But California is different--we can wear the same clothes all year. And for me, those clothes are a T-shirt and shorts. I rarely wear pants because I find them to be very uncomfortable. Actually, I find all clothes to be uncomfortable and--if given the choice--would spend most of my time naked (scary thought to you readers at home: most of what I wrote has been composed naked). I think part of the problem is my abnormally large ass (if anyone needs proof that Italians are descants from Africa, just look at my rump: Sir Mix-A-Lot would date me if ever given the chance). It's not a fat ass--just big, round, and long. I just can't comfortable fit in pants unless they're six sizes too big for me.

Of course, wearing pants size sizes too big makes them awfully difficult to keep up. Belts clearly aren't made to cinch that much--not that I would wear a belt anyway (too tight around the waste). So I have to use other means.

I got the idea one day when I was cleaning out my garage. I was throwing away an old air conditioner. The unit didn't work anymore but I cut off the cord for future electrical projects (I always wanna plug something in somewhere). At that moment, I happened to be wearing a pair of pants and they kept falling down. So I ran the cord through the belt holes on my pants and tied it to the desired tightness. And just like that, a great idea was born.

I gotta admit, I didn't come up with it. I recalled an episode of "The Simpsons" when Jimbo was forced to use an extension cord to hold his pants up because he couldn't afford a belt. While I certainly could afford the ten dollars a belt would run me, it didn't seem like a necessary cost--not when I had the cord.

Over the past four or five years, the cord has proved to be a wonderful belt and excellent conversation starter. Let's face it--when you got a plug hanging from your nether regions, people are gonna notice. But regardless of the fashion statement or conversation piece, I maintain that a cord serves as a truly great belt.

During my past failures with belts, I discovered that I was never able to get the belt to be properly tight. The holes on the belt were always too loose or too tight--there's no in between. But a cord can be knotted anywhere I chose--making it perfectly tight and loose to my desired preference. My pants stopped falling down and I stopped being questioned by the police. Things were good.

Many have had difficulty accepting the corded belt (some girls even threatened to break up with me: little did they know the cord meant more to me than they did), but for the most part folks have found it amusing. It made for awkward stares every time I passed through a metal detector, but considering how rarely I wore pants in the first place I was able to live with it.

A few weeks ago I went to the Dodger game and it was raining like you couldn't believe (it took major coaxing to get me to leave my office in the first place because water was falling from the sky). Since it was a cold, wet night and Dodger Stadium is a pretty cold place most of the time anyway, I decided to wear pants. I tied my cord around the waist and went to the game without a second thought.

But at the gate, Dodger security personnel wouldn't let me in. Dodger Stadium is notorious for arrests and brawls (man, I hate LA) and all incoming visitors are checked for weapons. The woman at the gate was confused by what I had around my waist. Unsure what to do, she called her supervisor...who ordered me to take it off.

"You're kidding me, right," I said with disbelief.

"You have to take it off," he said.

"Why?"

"Because it can be used as a weapon."

"It's my belt."

"No, it's an extension cord."

"It was an extension cord--now it's a belt. If I take it off, my pants will fall down. Do you really want me walking around with my pants around my ankles?"

"Doesn't matter--I can't let you take it inside."

"But you have a belt," I said pointing at his waist. "Are you allowed inside?"

"I have a belt."

"So do I."

"No, you have an extension cord that can be used as a weapon."

"How can an extension cord be used as a weapon?"

He paused for a second and said, "It's raining outside."

"And you're worried about the wattage my waist puts out?" I demanded to talk to a supervisor and he insisted he was the supervisor (does no one have bosses anymore? My requests to talk to a supervisor are getting rebuked way too often lately). I pressed him to tell me how my extension cord could be used as a weapon, but he couldn't come up with one. I saw what the real problem was: this power-hungry, 19-year old rent-a-cop was confused by something unusual. Instead of using logic, he decided to assert his authority. I hope his seven bucks an hour gets him a nice apartment when he burns in hell.

Seeing how I wasn't gonna get anywhere with him, I told him I was going back to my car to find something else to tie my pants up with. He seemed okay with that (probably because I'd no longer be his problem) so I turned around and headed towards the parking lot.

As tight as the Dodgers might like to think their security is, it doesn't compensate for the stupidity of their employees. If the Dodgers truly felt the belt was a weapon, they wouldn'tve allowed me to leave with the 'weapon'...and come in through another entrance with it (at that gate, security was less concerned about the dangers of an unplugged electrical cord). I got in to the stadium and watched the game in peace. It was comforting knowing that out of the 45,000 fans in attendance, I was the only one there carrying a weapon.

© 2007 siknerd.com