Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Juicy

Last night I had a dream in which I was inside a shrunken submarine and injected into Dennis Quaid.


Today I proposed a game at work. It's called Buck-aroo. Essentially the requirements are that other members of the office attempt to climb on to me. The last person who climbed on before I fell over is the loser. And by proposed I mean I suggested it solely to one coworker as a team building exercise. And they assured me that was not a good idea at all. Spoil sport.

Also - I saw one of these on someone's desk at work. I know what it is. And it shouldn't be on anyone's desk. It's for when ladies are "on the blob". They look like you make popsicles in them. And they come in deep dark brown as well. Which is all wrong.


Lastly, I am confused about something. Apparently wearing sweatpants is a sign of failure. Abject sad failure. People who do it in public are derided and chastised as losers. When I'm with people and they see others in sweatpants they instantly talk about how their life must have taken a dive down the shitter. People who own them wear them in secret at home - hoping no photos are ever taken. Those few who do wear them out in public are such broken wrecks that they just don't care anymore. But everyone owns them. Not me obviously - I can't stand how they feel. But clearly I'm in the minority. Every single person I work with blathers on about getting home and slipping them on. About the unbridled luxury of wearing something so comfortable that it's like wearing double cream on your legs (I imagine....). I know some of them look bad. A stroll through Walmart confirms that.  But half the things people wear look atrocious. Basketball shorts for one. Nobody looks anything but ridiculous in them. Or skinny jeans. Gack. But why is it that sweat pants got picked out?

Which is where I have a confession. Recently my girlfriend expressed a similar rant about girls who wear pants with, "Juicy" written on them. At which point I admitted that I had absolutely no idea why that word had anything to do with pants, arses or anything. I was looked upon with shame. I genuinely had no idea what it referred to.

I feel so ashamed.

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