So the snowstorm Jonas (not to be mistaken with the attractive Nick Jonas, the only semi-relevant Jonas brother) hit the east coast this past weekend. I was staying over my Uncle’s compound (yes he basically has a compound in the suburbs) for the duration of this fuck-face of a blizzard. It started on Friday night and immediately started to stick. While the other snowed-in housemates were shoveling and plowing away, my pyromaniac self kept the fireplace blazing indoors to avoid the treacherous outdoor slave labor (aka: shoveling the walkway)
While lounging around all weekend by the fire, watching the snow fall, and catching up on all things reality tv, a normal person would be wearing sweatpants and reppin’ some baggy college t-shirt….not this kid! I’m a strong supporter of the #NoSweatPants movement, but even I can’t justify wearing a blazer and fitted slacks when the only possible way to get to the nearest Starbucks is by dog-sled.
The Culley +1/honorary family member enlisted her little friend Lambchop, better known by the rest of society as Alec, to bunker down with us for the weekend. Lambchop stayed indoors all weekend and refused to assist with anything snow related until he made an appearance outside to join the rest of humanity for the first time. His gorgeous snow “get-up” consisted of 1 very oversized black parka that seemed like he stole it right off the shelves of the local Exxon gas station. Now just when you thought that was the worst of it, you look down at what may be best described as the beloved 1997 edition of “mom jeans.”
After having to be placed on suicide watch due to the “mom jean”-induced trauma I endured, I self-medicated with 12 straight hours of the Kardashians and have come around to loving my little Lambchop.