What's with these Pajama Jeans?

Have you heard about Pajama Jeans?  I just recently saw an infomercial for them.  For those of you not “in the know” about these things, Google it.  I’ll wait.

Now that we’ve all seen them, I’m confused (not always hard to achieve in case you’re wondering).

A pair cost $39.95 plus shipping and handling of $7.95 for a grand total of $47.90.  I can buy really nice jeans that fit me very well at JCPenny (LOVE that store!) for about $21.99 during a sale.  Granted, sales tax will run me an extra $1.23 for a grand total of $23.22.  Shit, that’s half the cost!

But wait, there’s more!  If I order today, I get a “free” grey t-shirt.  They call the “outfit” a $100 value.  Honestly? The t-shirt is worth $60.05?  Oh goodie, just what I need.  Meh.

Their website says to allow 4-6 weeks for delivery.  Hmmm, if I go to my local store I can have my ‘normal’ jeans almost instantly.  I may have to wait in a checkout line for a couple of minutes though.

They offer a 60 day guarantee.  I can just skip buying the jeans after I try them on in the store if they don’t fit.  Or, I can return them quite quickly (with no extra shipping charges) if I decide I don’t like them or the way the look on me.  What to do, what to do?

The infomercial says “It’s a struggle to get into regular jeans.”  Ummm, no.  I buy the right size and they slide right on!  They even button.  Miracle of miracles.

Pajama Jeans are called stylish and sexy.  Really?  Sweatpants (or pajamas as they call them) are stylish?  Sexy?  Really, really?  Not so much.

I will give them some credit.  They do have sizes to 3X.  That’s the way to go in today’s crazy eating, getting to be obese world (of which, sadly, I’m a part).  They do have small sizes (as low as size 4) for those of you that are thin.  So, they’ve got that covered.  Good for them.

Confusion abounds.  Why do I need a pair?  Why would I pay that much for sweatpants?  Why would I wait that long to get them?  Do I need a grey t-shirt that badly?

And one last question:  Will I order a pair?  I can definitively say NO.

Elevator Etiquette

I work on the 24^th floor of a 33 story office building.  The parking structure I use is in the same building and occupies ten of the floors.  I need to take two elevators two times a day, one to exit/enter the parking structure and one to/from the 24^th floor.

Let’s discuss elevator etiquette shall we?

ü      When the elevator door opens, WAIT for the people on it to exit.  Don’t jump in there and plow the exiting passengers over.  No courtesy = you are an ass.

ü      If someone on the elevator says “hello” or “good morning/afternoon” to you, say it back.  Otherwise, you look like a cranky ass.

ü      Don’t fart in an elevator.  We are all trapped in there and don’t want to deal with your stink bomb(s)!  Don’t be a smelly ass (literally).

ü      If there are a lot of people on the elevator and it stops to let more on, move towards the back and closer to your fellow passengers.  Don’t stand like a brick wall and force everyone else to shuffle around you.  You aren’t that important, you ass.

ü      Don’t sigh loudly if your floor is higher than mine and I press a button that makes you stop (for a few seconds) on my floor.  That makes me move veeeery slowly when I exit!  I become an ass (but you deserve it).

ü      Don’t talk about very personal things with your co-workers or friends.  I don’t want to hear about the new rash you just discovered.  I don’t want to hear about the great (or bad) sex you had last night.  I don’t want to hear about your new hair plugs or boob job.  Please keep this stuff to yourself.  If you don't, you sound like a self-centered ass.

ü      If someone is carrying a ton of stuff and their arms/hands are full, ask “what floor?” and push the damn button!  Bad manners = you are an ass.

CAN STOP BEING AN ASS!

Intelligent or not so much?

I work for a relatively small company with just over 50 employees.  Most of us work in a nice office in a “fancy schmancy” downtown building.  Many of us have college degrees and several people have a master’s degree.  I, along with many of my co-workers, have hard to get but required licenses in our field.

Why is it that many of the well educated, intelligent men in this firm can’t put paper in a printer?

I’ve been here for almost 20 years and I’ve witnessed this often:

Smarty Pants Man (standing in front of printer with a quizzical look on his face):  “I think this printer might be out of paper.” 

Female Employee:  “The paper is right under the printer in the cabinet it’s sitting on.”

SPM:  “What?  Where?”

FE:  “Right there, right under the printer.”

SPM (not really looking for the paper):  “If I can even find it, where does it go?”

FE:  “In the paper drawer.  That’s right underneath where your printed documents come out.”

SPM:  “I still don’t see the paper.  There’s a drawer on a printer?”

FE:  “You’ll see a ‘handle’ that you can pull on to open the drawer and put the paper in.  The paper’s right there in that cabinet”

SPM:  “I don’t see it.”

FE:  “The drawer or the paper?”

SPM stands there looking around as if things will magically get done.

At this point, the Female Employee jumps out of her chair or office, gets the paper out and puts it in the printer with Smarty Pants Man looking on.  She usually always shakes her head as she walks away.

Putting paper in a printer is not rocket science brain surgery difficult.  I used to think about how dumb these men are.  After all these years, I’ve come to a different conclusion.  They know exactly what they are doing and want someone else to do what they consider to be the “crummy” work. 

Maybe a lot more intelligent than I first thought?  I’d bet.

The Packers better beat the Bears today. - UPDATED

That is all.

Hey you Bears, you're gonna lose!

Go Pack!

Update:

WE WIN, WE WIN, WE WIN!!  SUPER BOWL XLV, HERE WE COME!

He ruined it for me!

I have always been a huge fan of amusement parks.  I have very fond memories of visiting Marriott’s Great America (now Six Flags) many, many times during the summer.  I continued to go all the way through college.  I was also lucky enough to visit Disney World two times with my family when I was a kid.

I loved, loved, loved the rides!  Toss me on anything that twirled, swung, or dropped and I was happy as a clam.  Roller coasters were my favorite and when the developers started adding loops, I was overjoyed.

Thanks to Angry, that all changed. 

On our third date (over 21 years ago) we went to a local church for a festival.  We had a great time doing what one does at church festivals:  eating lots of food, drinking beer, enjoying live music, playing games, and riding rides. 

Angry bought a bunch of a ton of a million tickets for the rides.  After the fourth or fifth go around on the Tilt-a-Whirl, I felt a little woozy.  I told him I’d had enough.  He held up the remaining tickets and said with a frown, “I’ve still got tickets left. We can’t let these go to waste!”  I gave in to that poor, pathetic looking face and figured one more ride would be alright. 

It was the longest, most sickening ride of my life.  I begged him to stop the bucket from spinning the entire time, “Pleeeeeease make it stop!”  When it was finally over, I made it to the exit and tossed my cookies!

Angry took me home to clean up.  I figured since I’d thrown up, that was going to be our last date.  We’ve been together ever since so true love must transcend puke.

From that moment on, I could no longer ride in or on anything that spins or drops.  Sadly, my beloved roller coasters became a thing of the past. 

He ruined it for me!  I guess I forgive him.