Indigo Buys a Robe

10 out of 10
Would recommend. For everyone.
Pairs nicely with Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. Enough said.
Please buy one here. Or here. Or here. Or here. Or literally anywhere that sells clothes.
So, as soon as I moved out, I realized that people who aren’t related to me would probably mind whether or not I was covered when I wandered around the apartment. A a result, I investigated all the possibilities for house-clothes.
First I started with slippers. I have tried many pairs of slippers in my time. Most of them have some sort of warm lining inside suede or plastic foot forms. They are open on the back, like close-toed flip-flops. Look, if you’ve never heard of or seen slippers, then you are clearly unaware of most culture post-1900. I’m sorry time-travelers, but this blog should not be your introduction to the 21st century.
Regardless, slippers are often quite plush and comfortable. For about three seconds. I would not recommend slippers for people who hate shoes, which I do. They are sweaty and constrictive and offer no airflow to the toes. My feet are the feet of a dancer. I studied Jazz and Ballet barefoot for three years in college. My feet are covered in callouses and they love the open air. Every time I wear slippers, my feet not only cry out for freedom, they sweat a nasty smell that should never enter the nostrils of another human being. Maybe someone really bad. Maybe. This is not something I wished to subject my roommates to.
If you’re a monster who MUST have slippers, you could buy them on Amazon I guess. But I’m not giving you a link because as far as I’m concerned, it’s blasphemy to feet everywhere.
I looked into silky pajamas, which you can find here. Or here. Or here! There are so many sets, it cannot be comprehended. There are sets with shorts, there are sets with pants, long-sleeved, short-sleeved and no-sleeved. These are all really great choices for home-wear. I endorse pajamas for any human being who wants to wear cloth on their bodies.
I’ve worn many pairs of pajamas before. I have had sets that match (with little birds on them), and sets comprised of stripey pants and one old as hell shirt with Zero on it. Usually, they flow well, fit loose and generally feel like they are made of air plus a waistband. However, I wanted something even less. That’s right. I wanted something LESS than a waistband. Years of being able to walk around completely naked spoiled my physical form. I wanted to stay as close to naked as I possible could.
Robes. Robes were the answer to all my problems. Again, if you’re a time-traveler or basically just a beast, robes are basically towels with sleeves. No, not that. You’re thinking of Snuggies, which are blankets with sleeves. Robes are different. They are absorbent, so when you spill your beer on yourself, they soak it up. Robes are short, so your legs and feet can show off their hairy, free-flowing goodness. Robes are tied with one piece of fabric around the middle, giving you complete control over your waistband.
Basically, robes are the trashiest item of clothing that can be bought in the modern market. I mean, more than short-shorts with “Juicy” written across the ass. I mean more than cut-off shorts. I mean more than men’s tank tops branded openly as “wife beaters.” When you walk out in a robe, you know that nothing productive will get done in the yard. If you’re going to get the paper, you will inevitably flash ALL of the neighbors. If you encounter a cop, that cop WILL judge you. Harshly.
And in our modern society of double-standards, it means that I do all of my best reviews in my robe. It means that I get really friendly neighbors. And it means that cops who block my car in frantically try to move their cruisers. That’s right, folks. I have boobs. I was born with female chromosomes. Usually, I ignore those chromosomes because they are annoying and bring down my income, respect and job prospects.
However, when I wear my robe and get a little benefit from my figure, it makes me feel good. I mean, I feel good in a trashy way, but I still feel good. It’s not unlike the feeling of liking a James Patterson novel. It’s basic. It’s usually made fun of. But it’s so damn satisfying sometimes.
So I went out and bought a men’s robe. That’s right. Because all of the women’s robes in target were around $50. Many of the men’s robes were also $50. But there was a section that was $30, and in that, I found one for $25. Again, being female is a pain in the ass. In addition, my devastatingly sexy boyfriend can wear this robe, so he rarely brings his own night clothes to my apartment.
There are many reasons to buy robes. They are comfy. They are easily adjustable. They are one size fits all. They can be found for cheap. Last, but certainly not least, they can improve your sex life.
Go buy robes. Go have sex.

Indigo Moves Out!

6 out of 10 stars
Would only recommend to the strong of character.
Pairs well with a Manhattan. Because you’re an adult now.
Well, I’ve done it. I moved all of my physical possessions into a place that does not belong to a family member biologically obligated to let me live under their roof. It consisted of movement a few tables of various sizes, clothes in a dresser, a desk and a box spring/memory foam mattress. We accomplished this in ONE. DAY. Because my friends and family are baller.
This process is worthy of review for any adult. There are a few points to be made:
1.My apartment complex is some shit. This is because the buildings are old, which makes construction cheap. They claim to have put “millions of dollars” into renovations. I would believe they put A million. One single million.

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Look at this. Totally done at 4:55 on a Friday. No. Fucks. Given.

2. I’m paying entirely too much for this. I pay about 500$ in rent for the room I live in now. The complex covers no utilities, and on top of that, does not offer energy. As such, we must pay about 100$ collectively to pepco every month, and an additional 80$ to the apartment complex itself. This does not include 60$ to Xfinity for the Internet. 240$ for a three-bedroom place. Because there are gaps in the windows, and the roommates can’t understand how thermostats work. Which brings us to #3.
3. Roommates are terrible. I have gotten into a fight with one roommate about the closet that she should not have. I have been in a constant silent war with the other about whether or not she should clean up after her cat. Also, neither knows how to fill a dishwasher. The cups go BETWEEN the tongs. On the TOP RACK. IT’S EFFICIENT. WAKE UP SHEEPLE.
4. The neighbors are terrible. The walls of this apartment are thin (see #1). As such, when the empty apartment next door was filled, I was not super excited. I knew I would hear conversations because THERE WERE SQUATTERS before someone legally rented it. One day, my devastatingly sexy boyfriend and I were enjoying a night of sex, and we got a little rowdy. Loudly from next door came a “SHUT THE FUCK UP.” My boyfriend almost had a heart attack. I burst out laughing. However, I did not get laid again that night, and my rage against neighbors has never ceased. Now, one of them snores.
5. Being independent is AWESOME. I will say it again. Being. Independent. Is. Awesome!!!! I have not had any of my roommates call at midnight to ask if I’ll be home. I have not had either of my roommates stop me on my way out the door to ask if I can help with the attic. I have been able to buy and eat as much cookie dough as I want. I can go for a run right afterwards, or sit on my bed and masturbate with one hand, with cookie dough in the other. Like a curvy, vivacious Jabba the Hut. Wee pee bo solo fuck cookie doe.
6. Paying rent makes you feel like a boss. I mean, there’s that good week before you pay rent, where you run around going “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Moneeeey!!!”But every time I look into my account and see $500 has been removed (presumably to pay shitty repairmen do shitty repairs), I feel like a big adult. I put on my adult pajamas and do a little IndepenDANCE because I just successfully paid rent.
So yes, moving out is a solid 6 out of 10. The benefits still outweigh the cons, and I hope that continues to be true for as long as I live. Then I will never live with family again, gods bless ’em.