I Am Cool Now Posts

Have you seen the summer stop-motion? I wasn’t going to post for a while, because I wanted to make sure you saw it.

Did you?

I’ll wait in case you want to watch it again. Go on! All you have to do is scroll down a little.

Okay, now let’s talk about something very important. Fashion. I fancy myself a bit of a fashionista – I know a lot about fashion. In my current office, I’m usually the best dressed person. The other guy wears sweats a lot.

Anyway, on this past Monday’s episode of Gossip Girl, Dan, now apparently an authority on being cool, took Blair’s yellow hairband and said, “Hairbands are for high-schoolers.” He then threw her hairband down the stairs. I gasped.

(Image courtesy of Gossip Girl Insider)

I immediately knew what I had to do. With the stealth of a fox, I looked around the room and smoothly slipped off the hairband I was wearing and chucked it into my bag.

Then, I loudly snickered, “It’s about time Blair stopped wearing headbands,” for good measure.

…okay…

Confession. That’s not really how it all went down. Instead, as I watched Dan fling Blair’s headband into the stairwell, I gulped.

I was swallowing sadness.

I love hairbands, and I have five, and now I have to think twice before I wear them because apparently they’re for high schoolers.

Gossip Girl giveth and Gossip Girl taketh away.

I was at the US Open…

And amidst the crowd…

I spotted him.

Get it? It’s Waldo! I’ve been searching for him since I was a kid – the elusive Waldo. Well, my work here is done. * wipes hands *

Pssst. Are you watching the Nadal v. Monfils tennis match right now? I am! I love Monfils. He’s such fun. We have a lot in common, including large, well-defined muscles, the foot-speed of a gazelle, and the gift of flight. Just kidding, I can’t fly.

It’s a great match though. They each have one set right now.

In other news, I’m such a New Yorker. For example, I ride the subway, sometimes going Uptown, sometimes going Downtown, depending on where I plan on going. Sometimes I walk instead of taking the subway, because I can. I have real style too. For example, the other day I wore a dress, with a t-shirt on top, and a leather belt. The piece de resistance of the ensemble? A pair of Reef flip flops. Impeccable. It was original, classy, and casual, all at once.

Yesterday I saw the world through a whole new lens.

Literally.

I bought sunglasses! At the beginning of the day, I was prepared to pay top dollar (maybe a little less, preferably sale price) for some nice, slick sunglasses. “I’m going to go to the Sunglass Hut!” I thought to myself. “Maybe, maybe I’ll get Chanel sunglasses. Does Chanel make sunglasses? If not, I’ll get Dior. Maybe Burberry? Who knows. Who knows what designer brand will shield my eyes from the brutal sun?”

Before embarking on my quest for the perfect sunglasses, I did research on face types and their matching glasses. If you have a pointy chin, you want glasses that do not call attention to your chin. Your glasses must NOT be wider than your cheekbones. If you have long hair, you must try the sunglasses on with your hair down AND your hair up. I took vigorous notes as I scoured the internet for such guidance. I was committed to purchasing impeccable sunglasses. Like Moses freed the Jews from Egypt, I was to free my eyes from the sun’s glare. It was my destiny.

So there I was, ready to go to Sunglass Hut, ready to change the way I looked at things. Then, I realized something. I cannot afford designer sunglasses.

I struggled internally.

Bad me: Designer sunglasses are the only ones that have true UVA/UVB protection.

Good me: That’s not true.

Bad me: Designer sunglasses will make men want you, and women want to be you.

Good me: That is true.

Bad me: And designer sunglasses will bring you the happiness you’ve yet to find anywhere else.

Good me: Wait what?

Bad me: Up until now, our life has been an empty, demoralizing struggle for attention, recognition,
quite frankly, even the slightest acknowledgment of existence, and designer sunglasses are the key to changing all of that.

Good me: I think you’re taking this too far.

Bad me: Of course you do. That’s why you will be lost forever in obscurity.

Good me: You shouldn’t waste money on designer sunglasses. You’ve done the research, you can figure out what good glasses will look like. You cannot afford the glasses!

Bad me: Steal them!

Good me: No! I will not!

Bad me: So be it. BORED. You bore me. * yawn *

Well, Good me prevailed, and I got some excellent sunglasses from CVS! For $17.99 I feel good about my new sunglasses. They’re hip, they flatter all the right features, and I remain the law-abiding citizen my parents raised me to be.

Score one for the good guys.

Today I found myself conversing with a 13 year old. “How old are you?” she asked.
“I’m…old.” I sighed.
“How old,” she thoughtfully demanded.
After I revealed my age, she responded, “You don’t look like you’re over 18.”
I was rather pleased.

Then she asked her next question: “Can you drive?”

“Well yeah.” Her eyes lit up with such delight I felt compelled to let her know that I can drive and I have a car.

“My car’s over there,” I said nonchalantly, pointing to my car in the parking lot. I knew actually seeing the vehicle would impress her even more. The car would do all the talking.

“The Benz?!” she responded, wide-eyed, clearly astonished with the black convertible Mercedes Benz, glistening under the bright sun. It was sunny out, so the top was down, showing off its sleek, leather interior.

“No no, the Toyota right next to it. A beacon of stability.” I boasted. “Plus, I can go up to like 60 mph in that thing, which is 5 over standard speed limits. If you could drive, you would know that’s really fast…. It’s illegal to even go that fast. So I wouldn’t. But the point is, I could.”