Well kids, being unemployed does something to a human being. Not good things....no no....not good things. Here is how my life has changed.
Hygiene. What is hygiene? I gross myself out sometimes. I stongly believe that if you don't move much, there is less opportunity to stink.
Hair. This goes along the same lines as hygiene. I wash my hair soooo much less. I have adopted this new chic style of putting it in a knot on the top of my head. Its the new thing is Paris, Rome, and basements all across Lehi.
Couch time. Jan made Vaughn rotate his positions on the couch in the basement so he wouldn't get a butt groove in her sofa. Megan and I rotate positions every once in a while so our bodies won't get contorted in the same way each and every day. We are equal opportunity contorters. All parts must somehow feel uncomfortable. And this also lessens butt grooves which are an absolute EPIDEMIC among the unemployed.
Bad bad bad bad TV. Wow. I cannot even describe how bad. Oh, wait. Yes, I can. Yesterday we finished watching "To the Mat" a CMT original movie starring Ricky Schroader (who is no longer Rick Schroader, but Ricky again. Thank you. How else would we know that you are the boy from Silver Spoons?) and the Grinch in a blonde wig and VERY shiny pink lipgloss. Here is the storyline. The Grinch has left whoville and is now a finicial something or other who saves businesses. She goes to the south to help out the Slocum Academy, which is a school for WWE style wrestling. Wackiness ensues. She breaks up with her finance in New York who happens to be Jack Skellington in the flesh with Anderson Cooper's hair and makes out with the kid from Silver Spoons at a waffle house with her Grinch butt in the hair. But I digress. I watched the WHOLE movie. PA- THET- TIC. The movie and me.
Underwear radius gets quite a bit larger. I didn't do this, but I feel it coming. Megan decided she wanted a burger. She went out to turn on the grill in her bathrobe. Well, let me tell you a little somethin' somethin' about these robes. We all got one for Christmas and let's just say they are not the longest thing ever. In fact, they are quite short. Well, for any of you familiar with the Mormon underwears know that they are not short. She had many an inch haning out. And my parents' backyard is not fenced in. And bras are optional, if worn at all.
I am also beginning to feel that bathrobes are acceptable attire. Who needs clothes anymore? I certainly don't. I have always had a fond love of sweatpants, but a robe might be a bit better. My parents have finished the bathroom in the basement (because their children can't get jobs or husbands) and we have had workers here A LOT. They have all seen me rocking the bathrobe. Not the shorty one, but a much more suitable.
If I choose to get dressed, I only wear cutoff shorts and stripity shirts. My poor wardrobe is neglected. I think it cries for me out of lonesomeness. Did I just make up a word? What if I call if lonesomenessity?
I have fabulous makeup and am quite pretty, but alas, I am only operating at like 3% makeup right now.
I am pretty sure I done gone catch me a man like this!