The pants only play a minor role in the story, although I won't give away what happens with them. It is mostly the saga of an Ivy League grad who hasn't figured out what he wants to do with his life yet. So he works at a 3rd rate casting agency and spends his spare time drinking, drugging, puking, and trying to find women for "Lil' Petey." Things are marginally better by the end of the book, as he manages to follow through on a couple of things his friends were doubting he'd be able to.The best parts were his tales from casting calls at the agency, such as:
Melinda never came back to the office, which meant I had to run the late-afternoon casting session. Toddlers for a Charmin commercial. After only about ten minutes I wanted to Krazy Glue the tip of my penis shut so that I'd never, ever impregnate anyone.
Kids were running around like they were on fire, crying, pulling each other's hair, spazzing out. Each one was trailed by a mother suckling another younger child, or perhaps, in their eyes, another "gold mine." These mothers were the worst, just the absolute worst. Their voices were so shrill they could pierce steel, the government should have considered employing them to sonically shoot down enemy planes from the sky ... I was ready to shoot heroin directly into my eyes.