roar

So, this? Kind of totally disgusting, right? I mean, just... gross. I hadn't even heard of the term until someone mentioned it a few months ago and just.... a thousand shivers up my spine. Nast.

Here's an idea. Don't buy me anything. Save that money for the imminent demise of our savings and social expenditures (hello, daycare. field trips. braces. tuxedo rental for prom. college tuition. junior year abroad. wedding. paying for my early retirement. yacht. helicopter pad. etc.) Instead of gaudy jewelry or $300 designer jeans two sizes bigger than what I used to wear or a diaper bag made from the skin of an exotic and/or mythical creature, I requested that please, for the love of god, don't get me anything. Get me: three hours of sleep when I am a sobbing mess. A glorious present such as that cannot be bought.

The N. complied. Kind of.

He did gift me something so awesome I find it difficult to describe my delight. The unfortunate part of said gift is that it doesn't fit.

For the first time in months, it is not girth, it is length. I am too tall for the youth size large glow-in-the-dark tan and green dinosaur print fleece footie pajamas.

That's right. I said youth size large glow-in-the-dark tan and green dinosaur print fleece footie pajamas.

However, they would definitely fit a slim-ish female or male under, say, 5'8".

The tag is off (doh) but I swear - brand new. Never worn. And now, up for grabs! I suppose I should make this some sort of contest or something, really make you work for these wonders of apparel, but I hate it when blogspot blogs pull that shit. First come, first serve. It may take a while for me to package them up and ship them to you, but the wait will be worth it. Imagine a cold winter cuddled up in this beauty. GLOW IN THE DARK. IMAGINE A CAMPING TRIP IN THIS!