Since I went all big-picture and thought-provoking earlier in the week (at least, I hope I did), I wanted to scale it down a bit and bring you something light for a Friday, b-rollers. I know it might be breaking the rules a bit to blog about an infomercial, but I just can’t help it. While watching Kathy Griffin’s latest special (another guilty pleasure), she got on a roll about an infomercial that was so funny that I thought it couldn’t possibly be real, except…it is. Meet Forever Lazy, a billowing adult onesie – with a zippered butt flap – for those who think a Snuggie is too elegant, and are too hopelessly incompetent for a blanket.
You may have seen this already – there are over a million YouTube hits, so I’m a bit late to the fleecy, nap-filled party here – but either way, I’m sure you will agree that this is one of the greatest things that’s ever been aired. I know I should weave the Forever Lazy into a thoughtful metaphor for the decay of American civilization, or at least be angry that this company stole my life motto, but I can’t. This is just too glorious. Not since the original Snuggie ad have I been this delighted by an informercial.
And speaking of the Snuggie, wasn’t this really just the next logical step, not only in sloth but in fashion? Not to channel my inner Tim Gunn, but I can’t help but think that the Forever Lazy is a bit more en trend than the artful draping of the Snuggie – jumpsuits are very in now, for some reason (ours is not to wonder why). I’m sorry, Snuggie, you are out. Auf wiedersehen.
So, b-rollers, I turn this over to you for an important debate: Would you, for any reason whatsoever, purchase a Forever Lazy? (Only ironically.) If so, which color? (I’m torn; the lovely gray looks like a white undershirt after 800 trips through the washing machine, but the electric pink is just so vibrant.) Would you, for any reason, be caught dead tailgating or attending a party in one? (Not without a lucrative endorsement deal.)
And, in conclusion, please allow me to kindly petition all Forever Lazy owners, present and future: When “duty calls,” for the love of God, remove the damn onesie.
Have a toasty warm weekend, b-rollers.
My grandfather, who died way back in the 1970s, had one of those. His was red, wool, and called a unionsuit. He’d be stunned to know he was in the forefront of style. Of course, he wore his underneath his shirt and pants.