So...my alarm clock went off (the one I got from Skymall, where the time is projected on the wall like some sort of red digital Bat Signal). After silencing the angry tones of the alarm; I turned off my Dream Light, the LED pattern of stars fading from my ceiling. I wrestle free of my covers and rise, my head lifting from my $90-some Perfect Pillow, which seems a high price to pay for a piece of foam, but it's science and who am I to argue with science? I stretch and sit up on the side of my memory foam mattress on which I can place a glass of wine on one side and jump on the other without spilling the elixir of Dionysus (ugh, FINALLY). Sure, buying that mattress made me miss a few car payments, but, come on - it's NASA-designed...
Still groggy, I slide my feet into my Stompies (I picked the ones that look like a cyclops whose eye opens everytime my heel depresses the air bladder inside) and stumble to the bathroom where...I squeeze toothpaste on my 30 Second Smile (which I got for only two payments of $59.95 - WITH a professional tongue-scraper, thank you) that brushes top-bottom-middle-sides all at once, thus cutting my normally 3 minute brushing time to a 30 second foam and froth assault on gingivitis-causing plaque.
After rattling my teeth with my jackhammer of dental efficiency, I head for the shower. I abandon my Stompies, the lidded eye of the cyclops allowing my pedestrial watchman a much-needed respite from its exhausting open-close-open-close-open-close routine.
I turn on the water (silently cursing the info-tainment gods for not inventing a tool to judge shower water temperature) and step in, secure that my footing is solid thanks to the non-slip Hydro-Rug (it's like having a shower floor made of loofa!) which I purchased for the paltry sum of $19.95 and reached into my 8-pocket Meridian Point shower caddy (now only available on eBay, Craigslist, and yardsale sites) to retrieve my combination bodywash/shampoo/conditioner/shave gel (I got that at Walmart). I wash my feet in the Easy feet foot scrubber ($14.95) I suctioned-cupped to the floor of tub with staying power worthy of Super-Polident.
I shower, dry off, wrapping my head in a Turbie Twist, the culturally-insensitively-named head-Sham-Wow thingy that dries my close-cropped hair in about fourteen seconds. I put my still-damp feet back into my Stompies, the single eye on each cyclops flying open in protest to the wet-foot colonic i just I gave it. I dress as quickly as one can without the aid of the machinery George Jetson seemed to take for granted as he dressed for the day. All the while I lamenting that the sweatpant jeans I saw on late night TV are only available in women's sizes. Instead, I have on a pair of pants (that I'd once kept in a Space Bag) that had ripped, but I repaired them with Mighty Mend It! Did you know it'll hold the seam of a parachute in use; or an American flag in a wind-tunnel?
I choke down the pre-packaged mortar Nutri-System sent for breakfast (I don't know what all those celebrities are talking about - but I only have another 3 months of food in cardboard boxes on my steps until it's done) and stare resentfully at the Gazelle, Total Gym, NordicTrac, and Bowflex pushed into the corner of the den/breakfast nook/workout area/place where I hang clothes now. It's near my collection of coins with scenes from the west, various wars, and historical moments along with state quarters. The bigger coins are legal tender in Liberia, I think.
Another swallow of milk gets the rest of my (breakfast?) morning sustenance down, grab my Aluma-Wallet ($9.95 and I got a second one free! I'm still trying to decide how I'll use that second one...), and I head out to my SUV. I start it up, check the feed on the mirror with the back-up camera that I bought after an infomercial that showed a woman backing into what must have been a lawyer on a bike, and pull out of my driveway. Inside my house, a chime emits from the Driveway Patrol remote driveway alarm that I got for free when I bought my kinectic-energy-powered Shake Light for just $13.95 (the Shake Light is not to be confused with the Shake Weight, my Shake Weight for Men is with my Perfect Push-Up over by the Gazelle) . Sure, I have to replace the batteries on the Driveway Patrol every 2-3 weeks, and sure it chimes over-and-over-and-over when you mow the yard, but that's the price you pay for being able to set your receiver up to 400 feet away so you can know when someone is coming to your door...beats waiting for the doorbell, right? (The chime makes my cat look up from the fried-egg-looking "Cat's Meow" cat toy that I got for $24.95 plus shipping and handling - and, yeah, I got two; I'm saving one for a gift, check your mail - which keeps my Stompies safe).
I place my $9.95 Blue Blocker polarized aviator sunglasses on my face and head for work. I have my phone set up so it'll broadcast through my stereo (what's a little feedback?) using a microphone/Bluetooth/FM transmitter that Billy Mayes (moment of silence please) endorsed.
At work, I use Dragon 2 translate my words too text. It works grate period itmakes my job so much easier exclamationpoint and it kame with a free copy of Family Tree Maker period guess watt eyem doing this weekend questionmark
At work, lunch is more NutriSystem and a protest from my digestive tract.
After work, I head home. Back-up camera and cell-phone/transmitter thing work great. Just once do it get an ear-shattering ring/feedback; but, I've got Quietus tinnitus treatment that I bought off TV for just $59.95 and I'll put some drops in when I get home.
When I pull in the driveway, my Driveway Patrol chime alerts my cat to my presence and it quickly abandons my long-suffering Stompies for its Cat's Meow downstairs. When I come in, it's chasing the "mouse" under the yellow skirt of the cat toy and cursing me for a fool.
I toss my jacket on the Bowflex in the corner, use my phone hooked up to a Magic Jack converter to call for a pizza (in direct disdain of the NutriSystem boxes on my stairs) and decide to get wings, too.
Later, a chime sounds, and I meet the pizza guy at the door, Stompies on my feet (though only one cyclops works now, the other eye remains forever closed; its air bladder punctured...I don't know how, but I swear my cat I laughing as I walk by in a sideways stutter-step).
I strap-on my Contour Ab-Sculpting electro-stimulation belt (just three easy payments of $99.95...plus shipping) after downing the pizza and wings (on which I shook Sensa like it was parmesan cheese). Thirty minutes later, I feel a tingling in my stomach area, and I can change the channel on my TV with no remote.
I stumble up to bed, my now lonely stomps doing its best to guard against interlopers...from the left, anyway. I again brush my teeth with the speed of a fireman hearing an alarm bell and fall into bed, though no glass of wine would know it. Cuddling up with my Dreamlite, I drift of, a constellation above me, the time emblazoned on the wall next to me. I set the time early on the alarm. Tomorrow's Saturday, and I'm going to use my Ronco Pocket Fisherman ($29.95 plus shipping and handling) and my Banjo Minnow.
Ah, how easy infomercials and Internet products have made our lives.
Thatshow the wagon rolls period Thanks four riding shotgun period
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