Thursday, November 21, 2013

Hibernation 101, or Why I May Never Wear Real Pants Again

Confession: I recently scored a pair of velour leggings from TJ Maxx for $12.99.

Double confession: Those, combined with my fake UGGs I recently found for $25 on ebay mean there's a high chance I may never leave the house again.

For like, ever.

Don't believe me? Check out the real-life text convo I had with my friend last night:

{source: my phone}

Because while I may have found my home in North Carolina, I'm still a Florida girl when it comes to wintertime. Meaning: a big baby who thinks school should be cancelled if there's so much as a touch of frost on my car. (But seriously....I'm supposed to scrape ice off my car AND educate the underprivileged youth of America? One thing at a time, people. One. Thing. At. A. Time.)

Plus, going out in the wintertime is a whole lot of effort for not a lot of fun. From what I remember, it goes a little something like this:

11:00 pm: Arrive at bar. Spend 5-7 minutes taking off coat, scarf, and gloves.

11:05 pm. Try to de-static your hair without being obvious. Fail miserably.

11:06 pm. Realize that, despite the fact that winter seems to happen around the same time every year, bars in Charlotte refuse to have so much as a coat rack for you to hang your stuff on.

11:06:30 pm: Pile your beautiful j. crew coat (that you got at a sample sale) with everyone else's on a sticky, questionable barstool.

11:07 pm: Get a drink. Look back at the coat pile to make sure no one's "mistakenly" picked up your coat for theirs.

11:07:05 pm: Look back at the coat pile.

11:07:10 pm: Look back at the coat pile. Was that someone touching the j. crew? WAS IT?

11:08 pm: Make eye contact with a cute guy. Smile.

11:08:30 pm: Make eye contact with his fiance. Frown.

11:09 pm: Look back at the coat pile.

And so on. 

Then, after all that fun, what's there to do but wait for a cab while trying to ward off hypothermia? (But really. Does the cab population of America significantly decrease from November to March or is it just me?)

Spare me. 

You people enjoy your cab fare, frosty fingertips, and spare tire from all that egg nog. I'll be curled up in front of my fireplace, wrapped in velour and imitation sheepskin. 

Oh, and as for all my real pants? They're hidden away until daylight savings ends. 

See you in the spring!


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