Well, here we are again. I have missed you. Hopefully you have missed me, as well. So, we are going to give this a try again. Try to put these sometimes crazy, sometimes humorous, and always ignoble thoughts in my head out there for everyone to see. I feel vulnerable, naked and exposed. No need to hide your eyes or put the kids to bed, for this is not one of those blogs. We keep it clean around here, relatively speaking. So pour yourself your favorite beverage (I suggest alcohol of some sort to make the reading of this more bearable), sit back in your favorite chair, and let me bore you to sleep with my drivel.
Today's blog takes us back a week or two to the beautiful warm weather we all had the privelege to enjoy here in Nebraska before old man winter destroyed all of our hopes and dreams of it being a very early spring. Here in Stinkin' Lincoln, there appears to be a bit of an epidemic, it may have already made it to your area. This being a college town, we have a great many young ladies who use very poor judgement when dressing. The warmer weather always seems to be some contest to see who can wear the least amount of clothes. Ladies, it was 55 out, not 85. There is no reason to be wearing a sheer spaghetti strapped tank top and what my friend's 16 year old daughter calls "butt-shorts" (I believe in "my day" and perhaps, "your day", they were referred to as "Daisy-Dukes" or "Oooobabies"). Besides, your legs are so white they might actually look better if you DON'T shave your legs. At least the hair would give you some color. Ever heard of a tanning booth or doing whatever that John Boehner does to make himself look the color of an Oompa-Loompa?
This is just one example of the epidemic that is poisoning the female population in Stinkin' Lincoln from ages 16-24. But that is just the tip of the iceberg my dear friends. What I really want to talk to you about is something that could effect women all the way into their 40's, even those trying to be modest. Let me paint the picture for you. On a beautiful Friday afternoon I went to the neighborhood coffee shop to get a cup of java for my wife and I. The local coffee shop is in a "ritzy" area by Stinkin' Lincoln standards. There are several boutiques, flower shops, hair salons, dance studio, guitar studio, and then mixed in is an autobody shop. Nothing says classy like the smell of paint in the air on a warm winter's day. However, by Stinkin' Lincoln standards, it's very highbrow. Then about half a block away is a very small college. I think you can imagine the type of crowd this area draws. You have all these rich women walking around thinking they are pretty hot stuff, and a bunch of college kids loitering and over compensating for their lack of self esteem.
I pull up to the coffee shop and from the time I pulled up to the time I left I saw 7 women, and I use the term loosely, wearing these tight, stretchy, black pants. When I got home, I asked my wife what the deal was with this new fashionable fad. She said they are called "Yoga Pants".
"But," I say, "there isn't a yoga studio there." She replied, "Very few women that wear yoga pants do yoga." Awwwww, so it's the new, hip, cool, trendy thing to do. (It is at this time I must warn you that if you are easily offended, please don't read any further.)
Why do I tell you all of this? Am I just a big, gross, old, pervert checking out middle aged women and college girls in yoga pants? I am shocked and outraged that you would think such a thing! Rather, I would like this blog to serve as a warning for women everywhere that yoga pants are a trap. Here is why I say that: You may go to the local yoga pants store and take them into the fitting room and squeeze into them. You may look in the three-way mirror and look at your butt and legs and think, "I think I can pull this off!" If this is your criteria for whether or not to make that purchase, you are missing one important step. You need to either have someone you trust to tell you the truth, or figure out a way to look in that mirror and watch yourself walk away. You see, when stationary the yoga pants may look just fine, but unless you are a size zero or have dancer's legs, most likely when people watch you walk away they are going to think they are looking at a Jello mold during an earthquake. I know what they say about there always being room for Jello, but in this case, it's not true. Yes, we can see every fat cell locomote on your calves, thighs and buttocks when you adorn yourself with those new, hip, cool, trendy yoga pants.
In light of this, you might want to just put those yoga pants back on the shelf or cross them off your wish list. What's that you say, it's too late, you already own them. In that case, I suggest giving them to that girl you can't stand in your school, or that middle aged know-it-all tramp that works out at your gym. It will just be our little joke.
