Snug as a Bug in a Fleece Mess

Let’s play a little game of word association. Ready? Okay.

Snowflake
…Chicago.

Static
…Cell phone.

Bird
...Don’t flip me off.

Snuggie
…Excuse you.

Imagine what you would have done if, say, three years ago someone asked, “Hey, do you want a Snuggie?”

Depending on who was doing the asking might have greatly altered your response, but I would have run away. Today, most people would probably respond with something like, “Thanks, but I already have one! Aren’t they ah-MAZing??”

For anyone lucky enough to dodge this trend that swept the nation and who DOESN’T know what a Snuggie is…

It's basically my ideal daily wardrobe.

I only say ideal because I don’t actually own a Snuggie. Well, that, and the fact that Snuggies don’t really cover you backside doesn’t help things either. However, I have encountered a Snuggie.

Setting: My bro’s living room in Denver – Late night – (and it ain’t summer)
We’re sitting on the couch watching the glorious light box. The dogs breeze back into the house bringing with them the cold air from outside. Shivering, I reach for a blanket from the mound my bro has piled on the end of the couch. I see a fleece pink corner sticking out and pull. The pink feels thinner than I was expecting, but I continue regardless. I pull again, and a few more inches give way but this is going to be trickier than I’d hoped. I keep pulling and before I know it all the other blankets are on the floor and I’m left holding a crumpled mess of pink static cling.

You’d think I’d have felt victorious, but instead I was disappointed. (Feel free to psycho-analyze why I didn’t just take the blanket on top of the pile and let me know what you find). I’d made a mess and for what? The bright color, the soft fleece? It sure wasn’t the warmth because this sucker was thin. I tried to shake out the blanket but something was wrong… it was all stuck together! I’ve experienced my fair share of static cling, but this was ridiculous.

:::::::::: shaking the blanket :::::::::::::

“Wait, why isn’t this square? Are these pockets? What is going on here? All I wanted was a stupid blanket!”

Just then, the show we were watching came back from commercial break. No more time for this blanket business when House is about to leave the insane asylum! So I smushed myself as small as possible and tugged the pink, er, thing, over as much of my legs as I could and turned my brain switch back off to watch more TV (yes, some might argue it was never on in the first place).

In summary: I couldn’t figure out why the pink-ness was so stuck together and I gave up because this awkward blanket caused me to feel claustrophobic and frustrated.

It wasn’t until later when my sister-in-law was saying her mother bought her a crazy pink Snuggie that I realized what I’d been dealing with.

Genius, I know.

Now, I’m all about inventing cool new things, but did the blanket really need to be improved upon?

NO. Absolutely NOT. The blanket was perfect, but because someone was smart enough to sew in some arm holes (and Velcro?), we now have a product called a Snuggie. Or The Universal Blanket. Or, my personal favorite, The Slanket.

I always wish I’d thought of the Post-It note, but somehow it doesn’t bother me that I didn’t dream up the reason to have parties like this one:

Although I guess they do look pretty happy. Maybe the secret to life is to use a lot of fabric softener.

Menus and Massages

In these modern times, people find many reasons to treat themselves to a massage. These reasons sometimes include stress, physical therapy, elitism, etc. I get that, and I usually like massages. I have absolutely no problem with treating our muscles to a little TLC. My only question is why are we now also massaging our food?

A few weeks ago, my roommate and I decided to take a gamble on an interesting restaurant in our new neighborhood. Promoting raw and vegan friendly options, I thought the place might offer a memorable experience. I was right. While perusing the menu I notice such specialties as Raw Kelp Noodles, SunPower Burgers, and Superfood Shakes. Mmm ... ? Although these items aren't what you see everyday, I wasn't terribly surprised they were on the menu. However, as I continued to scan down the selections there was one item that made me do a double take. There, listed in all its glory, was Massaged Kale Salad.

Maybe I'm just behind on the curve, but massaging salad is new to me. Even though I read plenty of cooking magazines, blogs, and books, this was the first I’d heard of such a technique. I'm not used to giving food the luxury of pre-game rub down before it heads to my stomach. Is massaging the new boiling? I needed to know more.

After a few moments of ogling my google results, I learned from one vegan website the wonders of magically massaging kale. If you check out the above provided link you will see that I am, in fact, not kidding. Apparently, when you take out your inner aggression on a few leaves with a little kosher salt, the kale “magically” becomes soft and wilted. Next time I punch my brother on the arm I’ll have to tell him it’s magic when he feels a bruise.

But getting back to this kale business, since the lovely vegan website provided a recipe for this magical salad it was time for the store.

Thankfully, I live near the glorious NoHo strip-malls which provide ample opportunities for grocery stores and foot reflexology shops within spitting distance of each other. And since I was already buying kale to see how it handled being massaged, I figured I might as well stop in to see how my feet handled being massaged, too.

Glories upon glories, my feet seemed to like the massage. SIDE NOTE: If you don’t mind the somewhat creepy feeling of being the only customer in a foot reflexology place, try going to a brand new location. You’ll have three people wait on you and about 15 extra minutes of bliss. What? Have I returned for another massage? Well, no.

Anyhew, I took my kale home, followed the instructions, and my results were identical to the pictures posted with the recipe. If you beat something up enough it’ll eventually turn to mush. Incredible. Not mush.

Mush.

Although neither parties (my feet or the kale) have officially responded with comments, I’d have to bet that my feet enjoyed the massage more than the kale.

Special thanks to Vegan Dietitian for the pictures. I forgot.

Mannequins

Have you ever asked yourself "What is the purpose of a Mannequin?" I have. One idea I had is that mannequins are cheaper than hiring humans to stand in store windows. Although, in this economy I bet we could find some pretty cheap labor to take the job. That would make the mall fun again.

ALICE: Judy got fired for sneezing??

JANE: That was the excuse. I think it was for knocking the nuts off the teenager who took a leak on her shoe.

If the stores ever decide to go the route of human displays, I think I’d be good at being a mannequin. I’d at least apply for the job. And if I didn’t get hired, you’d find me selling popcorn to the window spectators.

Do you think mannequins actually pull in more customers than, say, hangers? I’m usually more drawn to new outfits displayed on hangers than the ones draped over female mannequins who seem to be perpetually cold in the chest region. But maybe that’s because I’m not a guy.

Upon googling "Mannequin," I learned that in addition to displaying clothing, in the 1950s mannequins were also used to help illustrate the effects of nuclear weapons on humans.

"BOOM!"

HANK: Whoa! Where did little Susie go?

ALFRED: That was awesome. I’ll take twenty. Of the weapons, not those big dolls.

Personally, I find mannequins creepy. Especially when they’re naked. And especially, especially when I see a store employee awkwardly attempting to dress the naked mannequins.

Which brings me to my inspiration for writing this blog:

What's this? A family out car shopping? Not quite. But anyone who has ever exited the 101 Fwy at Lankershim in LA might recognize these beauties.

Remember that car dealership that seems perpetually busy? Even at 2am? Yes! That’s the one.

My friend from out of town noticed it first, “What’s up with all the dolls at that car dealership?” Although I didn’t know what she was talking about at the time, I soon learned. I suppose it’s all marketing, and in the grand scheme it probably works. I mean, it’s enough to make me talk about it in a blog. Except I don’t really care about the mannequins themselves. They’re weird, but that doesn’t matter.

What I DO actually care about are the pranks being pulled on the dealership.

One morning, I happened to glance at the dealership while driving past. I was expecting a little treat simply by seeing the amazing mannequins themselves, but instead I got an entire smorgasbord. There, leaning over, was a car salesman awkwardly pulling up the pants on the parents of a little mannequin family. I don’t know if he’d already pulled up the kid’s pants, or if the prankster wanted to leave the child out of the potential sexual harassment case. In any case, I found this random, awkward, possibly embarrassing moment to be a lovely way to start my day.

I wonder if part of the salesmen job description reads: "Must re-dress mannequins as needed."

That's one thing I'd never expect to do while selling cars. But then again, life is full of surprises. Nothing is ever as it seems, right?

For instance, this looks like two dude mannequins. One is a socially awkward cross-dresser, the other perhaps failed shop class.

Expect the unexpected, folks. Especially if you're a car salesperson.

And don't forget to honk hello to all my friends at the dealership. They're so friendly even the guy without a hand is waving.