Has it really come to this, America? Are we now a country so lazy and so dedicated to personal comfort that we will gladly wear something that makes us look like an extra in "Eyes Wide Shut?"
I could only be talking about one thing: the unholy union of gothic robe and gluttonous fabric monster that has become a national sensation...Snuggies.
Really? Honestly? Come on, your pulling my leg with your arm that never has to leave the warm comfort of that outrageously large blankie.
Really, USA Today? You, too? My God they've gotten to the media already!
http://www.usatoday.com/life/lifestyle/2009-01-27-snuggie_N.htm
The Snuggie offers this (from what I can tell, and please correct me wherever you may see an error): A giant blanket with holes for your head and arms.
In short, its a huge blanket with holes in it. And people are forking over money with huge grins as they dream of being able to take a sip of coffee while not having any of their bare arm exposed to the cold....of their homes.
Now I know the promise of two giant blankets filled with holes AND a nighlight for the bargain basement price of $19.95 sounds great, but think about what this means. What this means, gentle reader, is that someday, someday soon, one unemployed fellow will rise with the noon news, opt not to shower and look at his Snuggie and say, "I could wear that thing outside! It can be a coat, too!"
And that's when the world as we know it will end, my friends. Those donning sweatpants every day will take over, and the rational people, like you and I, will end up living in caves (dressed in smart attire and covered in reasonably sized blankets) banished from the world we once knew. Now don't get me wrong, we'll take over later that afternoon when all the Snugg-sters take a little nap in their full body suit of comfort, but it will be hell for at least a few hours.
Be warned. And when you see someone sporting one of these blanket demons as they wheel around a grocery cart, their beedy eyes fixed on the 10,000 varieties of Doritos that are now available, don't say I didn't tell you.
BDF
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Musings on a cold...brutally cold (this will make sense in a moment) winter day
I love my car. It is the first nice car I have ever had. The first car I ever owned I won (long story) and my worst ever automobile had no clock or radio so I rode around with a watch on the wheel and a boom box on the passenger seat (true story). Anywho, I now have a very nice car (an SUV) that I love more than I could love a human baby. Problem is that in my neck of the woods today turned into an ugly giant white mess. This is a problem because...
I live with my girlfriend, and she has a real vintage ride herself....a 1989 Grand Prix. So, teddy bear that I am, I gladly offer to swap cars. After wiping a tear away as I watch her drive off in my pride and joy, I set forth riding to work in the death box. How bad is it you ask? At one point, as we labored going up a small hill I heard a voice that seemed to have a Mexican accent say to me, "You sure about this boss? Why don't we call in sick?"
Riding in white knuckle terror as I sloshed around the road like a fat man struggling with the soft serve machine at Old Country Buffet, I thought to myself, "this really isn't that bad." And it wasn't...I would learn.
As I joyfully waddled my way to the old car at the end of work, I looked at the little Grand Prix, covered in snow, and wondered if that brush my girlfriend had in her car (the one that looks a little like the toothbrush a basketball player would use, and has nothing in the way of a scraper) was the only one she had. Well I was in luck, dear reader, because it was in fact the only one she had! I whistled and sang as I used a combination of my arm and the NBA toothbrush to wipe off the snow, and then, pulling my best MacGyver (if MacGyver were a short slow witted man), I figured I could try the windows to see if I could coax the ice off of them. I had no scraper, what else was there to do? Do not answer that.
The first window on the passenger side went down and up and worked like a charm. Then I punched the button for the drivers side...Now, I can only guess but I think there are three times in one's life when they know they have fucked up.
1. When you are lying in a dumpster just after a great second hand meal.
2. When you write an essay next to the box in the application that reads, "High School."
And...
3. When the car window won't seem to go up as you watch in horror while a woman who can't get into her car quick enough decides to kill herself rather than deal with the cold for one more second.
Thus far I have only experienced number three, but I would gladly trade it in for either of the other two options. As I drove around and did my best impression of a human ice cube, I stopped but once to have someone look at the car. The mechanic uttered that wonderful phrase any driver wants to hear, "uh-oh," and I knew that I was jolly well fucked. It was almost heartening as I saw people flash me different looks. There was pity, there was confusion and one person even made a gesture that I should put my window up. I made a gesture of thanks myself....He must not have understood it because he seemed angry.
But there was a happy end to the story. Really!
I am not, if you hadn't already guessed it, what you would call a handy man. But armed with the task of ensuring protection for the wide open window I created what can only be described as the Sistine Chapel of garbage bag tape jobs. It was so beautiful that I almost asked a random neighbor to look at it. But I never like to brag.
And as I sit here now and use this sad tale as my first ever blog post I realize that it sets the stage for all that will follow. I can say for sure that it isn't always a picnic living this life, but it does seem to entertain others when they hear about it. I hope you become one of them.
BDF
I live with my girlfriend, and she has a real vintage ride herself....a 1989 Grand Prix. So, teddy bear that I am, I gladly offer to swap cars. After wiping a tear away as I watch her drive off in my pride and joy, I set forth riding to work in the death box. How bad is it you ask? At one point, as we labored going up a small hill I heard a voice that seemed to have a Mexican accent say to me, "You sure about this boss? Why don't we call in sick?"
Riding in white knuckle terror as I sloshed around the road like a fat man struggling with the soft serve machine at Old Country Buffet, I thought to myself, "this really isn't that bad." And it wasn't...I would learn.
As I joyfully waddled my way to the old car at the end of work, I looked at the little Grand Prix, covered in snow, and wondered if that brush my girlfriend had in her car (the one that looks a little like the toothbrush a basketball player would use, and has nothing in the way of a scraper) was the only one she had. Well I was in luck, dear reader, because it was in fact the only one she had! I whistled and sang as I used a combination of my arm and the NBA toothbrush to wipe off the snow, and then, pulling my best MacGyver (if MacGyver were a short slow witted man), I figured I could try the windows to see if I could coax the ice off of them. I had no scraper, what else was there to do? Do not answer that.
The first window on the passenger side went down and up and worked like a charm. Then I punched the button for the drivers side...Now, I can only guess but I think there are three times in one's life when they know they have fucked up.
1. When you are lying in a dumpster just after a great second hand meal.
2. When you write an essay next to the box in the application that reads, "High School."
And...
3. When the car window won't seem to go up as you watch in horror while a woman who can't get into her car quick enough decides to kill herself rather than deal with the cold for one more second.
Thus far I have only experienced number three, but I would gladly trade it in for either of the other two options. As I drove around and did my best impression of a human ice cube, I stopped but once to have someone look at the car. The mechanic uttered that wonderful phrase any driver wants to hear, "uh-oh," and I knew that I was jolly well fucked. It was almost heartening as I saw people flash me different looks. There was pity, there was confusion and one person even made a gesture that I should put my window up. I made a gesture of thanks myself....He must not have understood it because he seemed angry.
But there was a happy end to the story. Really!
I am not, if you hadn't already guessed it, what you would call a handy man. But armed with the task of ensuring protection for the wide open window I created what can only be described as the Sistine Chapel of garbage bag tape jobs. It was so beautiful that I almost asked a random neighbor to look at it. But I never like to brag.
And as I sit here now and use this sad tale as my first ever blog post I realize that it sets the stage for all that will follow. I can say for sure that it isn't always a picnic living this life, but it does seem to entertain others when they hear about it. I hope you become one of them.
BDF
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