Captain’s Log 5,749
So I bought myself a onesie. Otherwise known as footed pajamas.
I have no idea what I was thinking. I am a little tall for such things. But I decided if Miley Cyrus can wear a onesie, so can I. In fact, I wish she wore onesies more often. That would show you can be cute and sexy and still be covered from head to toe.
Miley had a party and wore a onesie.
Covered up and still cute. In fact, she is really cute. Much cuter than when she swings around on her wrecking ball.
Since my legs are uber long, I bought the biggest damn onesie I could find. I wanted to make sure I could swim in the damn thing. It was cute at first. I was happy. I felt like I was three years old!
Yay! I am wearing a onesie! I had yet to discover the pitfalls.
I soon realized that it was really not long enough for me to stand up because it’s a bit too short. So….when one stands up in a short onesie, it creates an issue with um…..your bits. Dang! Ouch! Instant camel toe!
I tried to sleep in my onesie. I thought it would be easier but it was hellish. The problem with that was the onesie is micro-fiber and my sheets are flannel. I got into the bed and I couldn’t budge. I moved but the onesie stayed put. And it dug into my bits pretty hard. If my bits weren’t being cleaved, my toes were being forced backwards to my chin.
And let’s not talk about what you have to do when it’s time to pee and you are in a onesie that is too short. It doesn’t just fall off your shoulders in a cute way. Nope. You have to wiggle and writhe and twist like Houdini to get it off. And day GODDAMMIT a whole bunch of times. And the whole point of wearing a onesie is to get warm and stay warm. How warm can you be with your onesie pulled down around your waist and you are there sitting on a cold toilet with your boobs freezing? How pleasant is THAT?
I complained about my onesie to some friends yesterday and they informed me that they are not meant for sleeping. They are meant for lounging. Okay, lounging. So I guess I can lounge in my onesie if I curl up and take the pressure off my bits and my feet. Sideways on the sofa works fine. Or I can crabwalk to the kitchen if I want a diet soda or some crackers. I guess this is something I will need to practice.
I was thinking about situations where I might welcome this damn onesie. Here is a list.
1. If I fell through the ice in northern Minnesota and a bits-killing onesie was all they had in the cabin to keep me from freezing to death
2. I went to a party at Miley’s house
3. Watching A Christmas Story curled up on my side on the sofa with someone there to get my snacks for me
4. I was planning to make a “twin” of myself for Halloween and I wanted my “twin” to look four years old
I cannot think of anything else. I stretched the shit out of my onesie and it fits a little better. I was informed last night that after I wash it, the damn thing will be short again. What a pisser.
So it’s time again for Santa. Love Santa.
Another smug little bastard enjoys the moment while his sisters are scarred for life.
No Santa here but I love the photo. Might like it better if he was wearing a onesie.
I don’t think the tiger is scared of Santa at all.
Big Sister Mia just called and told me there is a water main break in the park. If we don’t have water, we cannot be open to the public. Actually, we cannot be open at all. The city frowns on park employees peeing in the bushes. It’s okay for the “urban campers,” but we are forbidden. I hope the damn pipe is broken. It would be nice to have an unscheduled day off.