As you may or may not know, the von Bloggenschtern family is home to 2 young men. One's a teenager, the other is 20 years old.
Both are tall and strapping dudes. One is just about 6 feet tall. The other? Well , I'll let ya know when he stops growing. He's currently at around 6'4".
In light of their whole young-men-who-need-privacy situation and the whole insatiability issues, whenever we travel, we find it well worth our while to stay at a place that has:
A) more than one bedroom, and
B) a breakfast buffet.
In light of their whole young-men-who-need-privacy situation and the whole insatiability issues, whenever we travel, we find it well worth our while to stay at a place that has:
A) more than one bedroom, and
B) a breakfast buffet.
(A) is mainly because the younger half of the family population has completely polar circadian rhythms to the older half.
I don't quite know how this happened, but I'm a'gonna chalk it up strictly to them being the younger half of the family population.
And maybe they've got that whole 'Teen Ennui' thing going on. Where they sleep in because they have nothing better to do (plus they stayed up until 3 AM facebooking/Skyping/gaming and all other 'ings' that a mother doesn't really want to know about).
With son #2, it might be because he's growing at an exponential rate.
Whatever the reason, my husband and I like our sleep, and we go to bed shortly after our Early Bird Special at the local Denny's.
(B) is because I like to get my money's worth. In fact, in the case of teenagers, I like to feel as though the hotel is actually losing money by foolishly offering such a service.
Clearly, they are not aware that when one grows an inch overnight every night, one must procure and ingest every food item that is not nailed down nor locked away.
Must. Eat. Protein. NOW.
The origin of the food is of no matter. It could be muffins made of mystery fruit, or sausages from dubious livestock, bound together with teaspoons of sawdust. If it's hot and it's fragrant (in a good-ish way), it's going down that pie-hole. Posthaste. In vast quantities.
By and large, I am very happy with these hotel scenarios. As are my human vacuum cleaners.
However.
There is a trend that I've started to notice that is highly irksome. And it is this:
A LOT of people think that, because they're ensconced within a hotel, and because said hotel serves complimentary breakfast, it's perfectly normal if they traipse downstairs IN THEIR PAJAMAS.
Ack.
I've kind of become inured to the flannel pajama bottoms and t-shirts; my nieces wear those all the time, as do some of my sons' friends.
But when I saw a woman - middle-aged, rather large (& rather buxom, may I add to further taint the recessess of your brain) - wearing her short nightie? That, my darlings, is beyond the pale.
I do not even care if she had made the effort to put on her underpinnings (or in this case, a flying buttress) before she wended her way into the elevator.
I. DO. NOT. WANT. TO. SEE. THIS.
EVER.
So, je despair, where does it all end?
Bathrobes? At first, all patrician and cinched tight. Then, eventually, just left open, because what the hell - does it really matter?
Sports bras and thong underwear?
Or my worst nightmare - wifebeater undershirts and boxers, with those darling morning semi-flacid schlongers half-hanging out of the barn door?
The vision is truly shudder-worthy, and makes me want to figure out how to bleach my brain of these horrific images by pouring Javex into my ear canals.
No one should be traipsing anywhere with that situation, other than to the nearest washroom. INSIDE THEIR OWN HOTEL ROOM.
One thing's for sure - I think I'll just be having the powdered eggs...
...hold the sausage.
I don't quite know how this happened, but I'm a'gonna chalk it up strictly to them being the younger half of the family population.
And maybe they've got that whole 'Teen Ennui' thing going on. Where they sleep in because they have nothing better to do (plus they stayed up until 3 AM facebooking/Skyping/gaming and all other 'ings' that a mother doesn't really want to know about).
With son #2, it might be because he's growing at an exponential rate.
Whatever the reason, my husband and I like our sleep, and we go to bed shortly after our Early Bird Special at the local Denny's.
(B) is because I like to get my money's worth. In fact, in the case of teenagers, I like to feel as though the hotel is actually losing money by foolishly offering such a service.
Clearly, they are not aware that when one grows an inch overnight every night, one must procure and ingest every food item that is not nailed down nor locked away.
Must. Eat. Protein. NOW.
The origin of the food is of no matter. It could be muffins made of mystery fruit, or sausages from dubious livestock, bound together with teaspoons of sawdust. If it's hot and it's fragrant (in a good-ish way), it's going down that pie-hole. Posthaste. In vast quantities.
By and large, I am very happy with these hotel scenarios. As are my human vacuum cleaners.
However.
There is a trend that I've started to notice that is highly irksome. And it is this:
A LOT of people think that, because they're ensconced within a hotel, and because said hotel serves complimentary breakfast, it's perfectly normal if they traipse downstairs IN THEIR PAJAMAS.
Ack.
I've kind of become inured to the flannel pajama bottoms and t-shirts; my nieces wear those all the time, as do some of my sons' friends.
But when I saw a woman - middle-aged, rather large (& rather buxom, may I add to further taint the recessess of your brain) - wearing her short nightie? That, my darlings, is beyond the pale.
I do not even care if she had made the effort to put on her underpinnings (or in this case, a flying buttress) before she wended her way into the elevator.
I. DO. NOT. WANT. TO. SEE. THIS.
EVER.
So, je despair, where does it all end?
Bathrobes? At first, all patrician and cinched tight. Then, eventually, just left open, because what the hell - does it really matter?
Sports bras and thong underwear?
Or my worst nightmare - wifebeater undershirts and boxers, with those darling morning semi-flacid schlongers half-hanging out of the barn door?
The vision is truly shudder-worthy, and makes me want to figure out how to bleach my brain of these horrific images by pouring Javex into my ear canals.
No one should be traipsing anywhere with that situation, other than to the nearest washroom. INSIDE THEIR OWN HOTEL ROOM.
One thing's for sure - I think I'll just be having the powdered eggs...
...hold the sausage.
5 comments:
...and your camera was, where????
Damn you could start your own website..simular to the People of Walmart. Hmmm hows about
The Breakfast Buffet Butts!
<><
I don't know how I feel about this because I have for sure gone downstairs in a hotel in my flannel pjs and tshirt...
I think maybe if you can possibly be seen outside in whatever you're wearing then it's cool. But if it's too inappropriate then too inappropriate for a hotel.
You've successfully listed nearly ALL of the reasons why I prefer a tent and sleeping bag over a hotel any day of the week.
There's just no reclaiming your eyesight after witnessing the aforementioned wardrobe meltdowns.
I'd really like to comment now but can't stop laughing.
On the 9th grade/Intro to High School for Parents overview of These R The Rules for Parents as Relates to Dress Code for Students?
NO PAJAMAS.
It flashed across the screen prominently as we parents sat and fidgeted in the audience waiting for something shiny to fly by. This was just the shine I was waiting for.
I believe I was the only parent cackling in the audience and could not ever recover. Because I, too, have seen the adults wearing the pajamas to the hotel breakfast or to the local Food Lion, or worse the citizen who chooses to get his paper with hardly any pajamas on at all, but even so to see it up there on a slide show for an auditorium of parents to see really made me laugh.
Sorry, evidently I not only COULD comment but I could create run-on sentences and take up all your real estate.
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