Robes and Slippers

Our hotel room is fucking ridiculous awesome. We peeked into our rooms and immediately erupted into shrieks and yells and yips and jumping like a Real World reveal. Our hotel room is nicer than my apartment. Nicer and bigger. And the walls were painted gray but it did NOT feel depressing. In addition to our two bedrooms with matching super fance bathrooms, we have a living room section, a dining room, and a full kitchen. With a dishwasher. And a washing machine. And an Ikea Expedit shelf full of wine glasses.

In order to keep in the mindset that we are very important, we created a rule that when you enter our room, you must wear robes and slippers. We are very serious about this. As we all reclined on our fake ostrich skin couch and sipped champagne, the boys called to come up and hang out. We conveyed our rule. Even though they whined and begged, we kept firm and eventually they acquiesced and arrived at our door with robes over jeans. This is like when my students pretend to follow the dress code and wear a collared shirt buttoned ever so slightly over a non-regulation tshirt or tank top.

Don't you hate when you have to fart but you are surrounded by people, so you hold it in and hold it in and hold it in until it goes back into your body? And then when you finally decide to let it out, you have to like surround yourself with pillows? That's what we talked about at our Robes and Slippers party.