I’m thinking it’s time. My life has been heading this way for a while. All I ever do is watch TV and work on my night cheese. I live alone and own only one relatively cloudy full-length mirror. When someone does come over, we just end up under blankets the whole night because my apartment is f—ing freezing. Basic logic suggests that if the blanket were attached to my body, I’d be so much less likely to accidentally light a dangling corner of it on fire as I barrel through my own private candlelit loserville on the way to the kitchen. How great would that be?
The only thing holding me back at this point is that the pictured scenario at right seems so unattractive, almost as unattractive as the Slanket itself. But in my heart I know that this is my destiny; perhaps the time has come to just embrace it. After all, Liz Lemon is often portrayed as pathetic — but that doesn’t mean she’s not my ultimate role model. It looks like I have my answer already, and should probably not publish this. Yeah, right!
Have you P-Dubs held out all year, or did you already succumb to the wonder of the Slanket or Snuggie? Better yet, did you buy a “loved one” one of these mammoths as a gift?
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