Here’s the first thing you need to know. Four years ago, I found a pair of brown dress pants for Joey on clearance (KAZOW!) at the Gap. He thought they were kind of weird and every time he wore them they just didn’t look right. So he quit wearing them.

Then I realized they didn’t look right because he didn’t have the right shoes. So for four years I’ve made him keep those pants, and move them across the country, despite the fact he’s always trying to get rid of them when he has the opportunity.

Three weeks ago, I was at Target. (And this is the point of the post where you’re starting to wonder what the title of the post has to do with what I’m talking about. But just work with me.) The one by church is remodeling and they had a lot of their men’s dress shoes on clearance.

SHOES, YOU GUYS. THE MISSING PIECE OF THE CHEAP PANTS PUZZLE.

And shoes for $12.97 because they really, really needed to get them out of the store.

I couldn’t remember what size Joey’s dress shoes need to be, so I bought 4 pairs. Let’s not talk about the look the cashier gave me as I put them all on the belt.

Those shoes? THEY MATCH THE PANTS.

Finally.

So on Sunday, Joey preached in The Pants.

And I’m not gonna lie. The man looked fine. Smokin’ hot, even. (It’s OK if you don’t agree with me. I would be kind of creeped out of you did.)

So last night, when he was asking me how he felt like the auditory flow of his sermon went, I was like, “I really have no idea. I just kept thinking you were hot.”

(I DID listen to the content. I promise.)

After I answered about four questions with some variation on the You Looked Like A Stone Cold Fox So I Wasn’t Paying Attention To Your Words theme, he buried his head in pillow and beat his fist on the wall. (Not really. But it would have been funny if he had.)

So I smugly looked at him and said, “How does it feel to be objectified because of your hotness?”

And he one upped me with, “You better pay attention when I preach or your spiritual growth is gonna suffer.”

I’m not sure who won that battle of wits, but I do know that I’m glad I saved those clearance pants for four years. So I guess I win.