While Andy, his sister, and I were in Oklahoma, we all three stayed in one hotel room because we're cheap bitches like that. Andy and I were going to sleep, and Emily was laying in the other bed, watching TV. When the show she was watching went to commercial, I heard something familiar. It sounded like.... a little piece of heaven. Like a chorus of angels, singing merrily.
It was the Pajama Jeans commercial.
Knowing how amazing I think Pajama Jeans must be, I glanced up at Emily to see if she would have the same reaction I did the first time I saw that very same commercial. When I looked over at her, she was frozen in shock, one hand covering her mouth, while her jaw hung down in disbelief. "She must be shocked by how similar those Pajama Jeans look to real jeans," I thought to myself. They look like they're made by some European designer or something! It doesn't get much better than that, y'all.
A few weeks later, the Super Secret Sunday Society was over, and we were discussing Pajama Jeans again.
(Aside: Super Secret Sunday Society began when Andy and I started inviting Emily over every Sunday night to eat a (sometimes) homemade dinner and watch The Walking Dead. My best friend came into the mix when we realized that we are quite possibly the most awesome people in the history of ever when we get together. Plus she brings cupcakes. So now every Sunday, we play games or watch tv/movies with dinner, and it's officially my new favorite night of the week.)
It was a Saturday night, and we were all extremely drunk. (Note: Next time I get extremely drunk, HIDE THE GODDAMN CREDIT CARD.) "Dude, I'm going to order some Pajama Jeans right fucking now, and I'm gonna wear them everywhere, and you're going to be embarrassed to be at the mall with me, but that's okay because I'm comfortable with myself enough to rock the shit out of these Pajama Jeans." After Emily and Katelynn encouraged me (thanks a lot, drunkies), I went on the website only to find out that Pajama Jeans are FIFTY FUCKING DOLLARS A PAIR. Which is when I scoffed and said fuck that shit and decided to try and move on from Pajama Jeans.
But I couldn't get them out of my head, y'all. In the middle of the night, at work, during sex. All I could picture was how much fun Pajama Jeans and me could have been having. Swinging each other through the air in a field of dandelions, sharing a bowl of popcorn at the movies until our fingers accidentally graze each other's and then we giggle and look away shyly, dancing in the middle of the street to no music...
I decided I had to have them. I asked the Twitter community if it was a good idea first and received a resounding YES
And this is where the love story starts turning into that upsetting scene in Labrynth, y'know, how the whole movie is pretty much the best movie in the entire Universe, except then David Bowie does that dance sequence with the little creature things, and you're all WHAT. THE. FUCKING. FUCK. I have lost the little respect I had for you, David Bowie, especially if you refuse to take that piratey shirt off for this whole damn movie. Suffice it to say, it turned bad.
The website tricked me into placing two separate orders, one for only one pair of Pajama Jeans and the other for two pairs of Pajama Jeans. Which means I had just spent two hundred dollars on motherfucking Pajama Jeans. Which made me not very happy. And when I'm not very happy, you know what has to happen, right? EVERYONE ON TWITTER MUST KNOW.
And apparently Pajama Jeans are super on top of things because I immediately got a reply back from a PR person for the company. He asked what was going on and requested that I send him an email, explaining my situation. This is an excerpt from the email I sent:
"Hopefully we can get this figured out, because I don't know how much longer I can go on without the styling of jeans and the comfort of pajamas. Just because I'm busy, doesn't mean I can't look sharp, right? And they even look like they were made by some European designer! (Although I'm guessing they were made by some 7 year old South African children in a sweat shop.) And have you seen the women in the commercial? They look ridiculously happy tending to their gardens and drinking coffee in those pajamas jeans. I don't do a lot of gardening or drinking coffee at the local cafe because I have a job and shit to do unlike those women, but I could always just imagine I'm at a ritzy hotel when I'm really sitting in my trailer in my pajama jeans, watching the latest episode of Teen Mom 2. (It's way better than the original Teen Mom.)
Pajama Jeans 4 Lyfe,
And my good friend, Ryan: PR Person Extraordinare, wrote me back. Here is an excerpt:
"Not only will we resolve your situation but my hope is that we can improve the system so that more people can have their PajamaJeans so they can await the release of Teen Mom 3 (this will be the original child from the original Teen Mom, making her (insert dramatic music) Teen Grandmom."
Stay tuned for future vlog/blog posts, detailing my love affair with Pajama Jeans. It's going to be the sexiest thing you've ever seen, I'm pretty sure.
Also, much love to Ryan for being the most amazing PR person I've ever dealt with in my entire life. I would offer you sexual favors, but I'm pretty sure that's not allowed. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge. Meetyououtback.
Thank you to everyone for making this the most fun bloggyversary week ever. (I've only had one, so I'm really just guessing here.) Mardi Gras is for the next two weekends, so I'll take plenty of pictures and make y'all feel like you were here, too. (If I remember.) (AKA I'm gonna be reeeeaaallll drunk, guys.) (For like two weeks straight.) (Because that's what Mardi Gras is all about.)
Love & Orgasms,