Well...not really. Wifey's just wanted to for so long, she practically can envision the entire scenario. Big blue burning barrel....jeans soaked in kerosine. Stuffed in barrel. Light a match. VOOM. Outdated saggy pants are engulfed in flames. I'm sorry Arizona brand, you done me wrong for long enough. Rest in peace.

Wifey did not realize marrying a mountain man from Montana would not be an easy transition into citified style. NO SIR. After 14 months of cajoling, pleading, explaining and finally bribing- Husby relented to buying a new pair of jeans. A fitted pair. A stylish pair. A pair where wifey can no longer fit her entire body in one pant leg.

This, dear readers, deserves a moment of silence.

While you meditate in quiet, picture Wifey noiselessly fist pumping the air, bounding with joy and generally ecstatic.

Ladies who have married "Baggy Bottom Boys" give ear. There is hope for you.