Disclaimer: If, after seeing this post, you feel the need to de-twitter, de-20something blogger, or de-reader me, even if you are a friend IRL and you de-facebook me, I will not take offense. It is most likely deserved. I, however, simply cannot help myself. But if you stick with me after this one? Bffies for life, my darlings. FOR LIFE.
Walking over to our neighborhood bar last Friday after work, B turned to me and said, “I got you a surprise today.”
Now, I have many virtues… but patience is not one of them. I demanded to know what it was and pestered him until he had no choice but to seemingly (ooo, foreshadowing!) give in.
“Toilet paper!” He finally announced triumphantly, lying through his teeth.
“Hooray!” I whooped, genuinely excited by the prospect of having some real TP in the apartment, as we’d been going without it for about a week by then. Paper towels got us through a day or two, and when that supply was depleted, we moved on to the holiday napkins my mother had sent us in a care package. Oh, you think I’m kidding? Yeah, well, I thought you might say that…
Yeah. That actually happened. “But, LiLu,” I can hear you saying. “They sell that stuff in STORES… just FYI.”
I know, dear reader, I know. But there is a problem. B and I are two incredibly lazy and forgetful individuals (not necessarily in that order). But this is neither here nor there! We’re missing the point: He told me toilet paper, and I bought it. Moving on.
A couple hours later, we crashed into the apartment, drunk and exhausted from the long work week. “Hey darling,” he called to me from the kitchen (5 feet away), “Why don’t you grab that blanket off the loveseat over there?”
Anticipating some sweet cuddlin’ time, I gladly obliged. As I lifted the blanket, my eyes opened wide as saucers and I squealed with glee. Can you blame me? No, my lovelies, surely you cannot, for THIS is what I saw:
It was as though it was Christmas morning, my name was Ralphie, and Santa himself had promised me a Red Ryder BB gun.
[Ed note: Bear with me, haters. My unabashed, though ironical, love of the Snuggie is no secret. I first confessed it here (click that one to watch the actual infomercial), and later confirmed it here, against Lil Sis' wishes. More than a few of you have even sent me the link for the DC Snuggie Pub Crawl. So don't look so surprised. You knew this was coming eventually.]
“Wait,” B stopped me with the glorious fluff already in my hands. “To get the full effect, we should probably reenact the commercial, so we can actually experience the newfound liberation the Snuggie will afford us.”
“You’re right,” I said, “And I have readers to think about. Get the camera.”
So I curled up underneath a “regular” blanket, and attempted to reach my delicious glass of vino…
Giant fail! How on earth could I reach my wine with my hands TRAPPED under the blanket? Oh, the frustration!
Next, the laptop. What if I couldn’t reach YOU GUYS??? What would I do?
SAD FACE = FAIL!!! “All right, enough of this torture!” I said. “It’s time to unleash the SNUGGIES!!!”
And we did, my friends. Oh, we did…
The movement! Look at the MOVEMENT!!! (B says pay no attention to his black socks with shorts. We had just gotten home and hadn’t completely pajamafied yet.)
Next up, to test the mobility of the Snuggie where the normal blanket had failed.
SUCCESS!!! (And a little bit of crazy face. I take my vino very seriously.)
Look how happeeee I am! It might be tacky, folks, but would you really take this away from me?
B even got crazy with the FREE reading light! Look how easy it is to read! With the light! All lit and stuff! Look!
Btw… Hey Snuggie, what’s a girl gotta do to get on the payroll? Cause I’m pretty sure I’m doing it…
Okay, I’m done. I promise. I hope you at least had a few hundred laughs at my expense.
(And if you’re wondering if I’m wearing it right now? The answer is YES. And it is FABULOUS.)