on the eighth day

If you've ever been to my house, there's no doubt you've been in its presence. You've asked about it, or maybe I've forced it on you, or perhaps you've even used it while sleeping, its sleeves flopping about in the night. Yes, it's the Slanket, and while I've had it for over nine months now, I have not yet publicly proclaimed my love for this brilliant product. For the uninitiated, it's like some roguish robe violently raped a blanket and said victim, being a proper Christian, chose not to abort, allowing you to enjoy such activities as eating, reading, gaming, and, most importantly, smoking cigarettes (and other things) without your arms and top-half getting all cold and gross. One caveat though:

As this probably pretty girl can attest to, you tend to look like a fat disgusting slob, almost Jabba the Hutt-like, while using it. But I mean, seriously, you're wearing a fucking blanket with sleeves, so it's pretty much expected. Also, I was on the website today, and I discovered this picture...

...which is kind of brilliant for two reasons: one, this gent has apparently taken the slanket outside to what appears to be some sort of sporting event, and two, he looks to be getting intoxicated while wearing the slanket, an activity which has now shot to the top of my agenda. Perhaps even more likely, he began drinking while wearing the slanket and, upon reaching an appropriate level of intoxication, chose to leave the house and possibly attend a public event while still wearing the slanket, and if this is indeed the case, he's my fucking hero.

Also, I MAY have written a dirty limerick involving the slanket which MAY have inspired this post and which MAY be invisotexted below. Proceed with caution.

There once was a young man named Stu
On sight of hot boys his peen grew
Under his slanket
He sure liked to yank it
With tissues to clean up the goo