I got my special trousers; let's eat!

Mid-November is nigh, the season's inaugural snowmen have been built and a few homeowners are sneaking Christmas decorations up already. These are sure signs it's time to start prepping for holiday festivities.

My first order of business, as it is every year, is to repair my feasting pants. I can live with the cranberry, gravy, chocolate and wine stains, all happy reminders of past repasts. But I certainly need to replace the elastic in the waistband, lest I suffer a repeat of last New Year's Eve's embarrassment when I bent over to spear an errant meatball on the floor and all hell broke loose. I did retrieve the meatball -- wrestled it away from a dog AND a toddler and from under several other partygoers' feet before I took a moment to pull my pants back up. But everyone else certainly seemed to lose their appetite. Fortunately, the fire that ensued when that Sterno can bounced off my foot and hit the drapes was doused quickly.

It really wasn't my fault. When it comes to holiday eating, the average American needs an elastic waistband with a tensile strength of at least 11 gigapascals. (Yeah, I looked up how to measure tensile strength; that's how seriously I take this.) I mean, c'mon, we can put a man on the moon but can't produce a decent pair of pants designed for heavy eating? Oh, wait a minute, we can't put a man on the moon anymore, can we? Well, maybe that explains it.

Of course, the simplest solution is a nonstarter, and for you married men out there, there's nothing to be gained by arguing, yet again, for wearing sweats to the Thanksgiving table -- even in your own home -- and to other seasonal eating events. Yes, it's an eminently reasonable idea, and I'm on your side, but we've already lost this argument. And we'll lose it again, and again, and again. Keep it up, and you may end up with a turkey baster shoved in your ear, or worse. Let's admit defeat and move on.

Besides, I have a much more elegant solution: It's a formal-looking pair of pants, fit for all occasions -- wearing to the boss's or entertaining in your own home, for a formal sit-down dinner, light hors' dourves after work or just tying on the feedbag while watching football. In addition to the elastic waistband, they'll be stain-resistant; if something, anything, spills on them, it'll just bead up, like water on a newly waterproofed deck. They'll need to stay unwrinkled, even during those impromptu naps -- on the couch, with kids and pets crawling all over you; on a bed, under an ever-growing pile of guests' coats and purses; or just collapsed in a corner in a tryptophan-and-wine-induced stupor.

But the real breakthrough in this design are the multiple hidden pockets, heavily insulated to keep hot foods hot and cold foods cold, for when you put together your own little, um, doggie bag for later. No repeat of those painful third-degree thigh burns from the fistful of stuffed mushrooms you snuck into your pocket at the office party last year or the mess from the leaking cream puffs that soaked through the other pocket. Also, they'll have a long, deep inseam pocket down each leg, suitable for spiriting away full-size cheese or sausage logs. (I'll pause briefly here for the less-mature reader to think of the obvious sausage-down-the-leg joke. Are you done? Good, let's move on.)

I'd like to figure out a way to incorporate a power source into the pants that would provide refrigerated and heated pockets, but I'm concerned a punch spill could lead to electrocution or spontaneous combustion on the spot, so the gang in R&D needs to give that more thought.

Finally, I don't want to get too graphic here, but these pants must have quick release crotch and rear flaps for those cases of sudden gastrointestinal distress that can follow overindulgence in rich foods. These also will be helpful when one is in a particular hurry to get out of the bathroom before the party hostess sets out another serving of those coconut shrimp that keep getting scooped up before you get to 'em.

You can see I've given this a lot of thought; just ask anyone who's made the mistake of sitting next to me at a holiday party as I sketch drawings and specs out on a cocktail napkin.

Maybe the J. Peterman catalog will stock these; probably call them the Buffet Trouser, or the Slack Stuffer. Pair them with Peterman's new specially designed Urban Sombero, with its hidden reservoir for stashing soup or nacho dip. And the sombrero is guaranteed not to spill, even if it falls off your head when you dive for a meatball.

I'm offering these ideas as a public service, as I probably won't get much use out of them. For some reason, I don't seem to get invited to many parties anymore.