The World According to Snuggie
I’m fascinated and horrified by Snuggie infomercials. I can just about take grandma Snuggie-d up on the couch (and can even envision, on an evening when the damn boiler stops working again, that it might be pretty cozy.)
But then – in the name of all things holy – the snuggies are on the loose, outside, at a sporting event. WTF people – do you not realize that while you remain snug in front, your ass is freezing its…well…ass off? And just how exactly do you propose to run from the vigilante hordes who will hunt you down for stepping outside in that thing? You’ll trip; just you wait and see – because you’re probably wearing crocs too.
OK, deep breath, it’s not real. It’s advertising dreamed up by some guy who never expected this kind of a hit – it’s bigger than the Sham-Wow for pete’s sake.
Then I read this: Snuggie Pub Crawls are sweeping the nation. Snuggie. Pub. Crawls.
True confession time. As a Brit, I have taken part in a fair number of oddly dressed – intentionally and otherwise – pub crawls. It is our national sport, after all, but even I would draw the line at hordes of drunks flaunting their freezing behinds while navigating the sidewalks in fleecy hospital gowns. Think of the static–everyone for miles around would look like Russell Brand.
I am invited to ‘Spread the Warmth – One Snuggie Pub Crawl at a Time!’ I laugh scornfully and then they pull out the big guns – the Chicago crawl has sold tickets to 3,000 people and the receipts will be donated to orphanages in Tanzania. Orphanages.
Damn you Snuggie. How can I mock you mercilessly now without looking like the kind of heartless person who doesn’t care about tiny orphaned children in Africa? Sigh.
Snuggie domination is complete, resistance is futile.
