Oh crap. Oh snap!
Since I became known as the kool-aid man I’ve been trying to keep my identity a closely guarded secret. Alas, I was recently outed by the most awesome web site known as People of WalMart.com. Apparently they posted a picture of my pimped out ride. Now you all know how I travel in style. I guess I shouldn’t have shopped at WalMart.
I don’t remember when or where, but sometime back I heard that wrinkles were the new cool. It was some new trend that the kids were shiznitty about. I could usually care less about the latest trends followed by the kids, but this one got my attention. Mainly because I’m a very wrinkly sort of guy.
I know the phrase “new cool” is old and busted but I don’t care. I live about three years behind the coolness curve. By the time I pick up on it, it’s already dorky and geeky and stale. But that’s just the way I roll.
There is no way in hell you’ll catch me spending the time to take my clothes from the dryer and iron them. No way. So I just wear the wrinkles and tell myself that is the new cool. I’m happy with that.
I’ve since been informed that I must have been mistaken. Either wrinkles were never really the new cool or that trend has long since gone bye bye. Too damn bad. I’m enjoying the wrinkles.
I was thinking about this and the need to conform. I’m no rugged individualist but on the other hand, I don’t think I’ve ever done anything simply to conform, either. If I don’t want to spend time ironing my clothes then I’m not going to, and I don’t care how others may perceive me when they see the wrinkles.
I think a line from a Joan Jett song about sums it up for me:
I don’t give a damn about my bad reputation!
I don’t give a damn about my wild masturbation!
Ooops. I improvised a bit there. Most of you are probably screaming at your monitors right now, “TMI! TMI!” (The few of you who aren’t — call me!) Heh.
Fashion? Bleh. The only thing that concerns me about fashion is: Is it comfortable? If it isn’t comfortable or serve some sort of function (like an extra pocket) then I have no time for it. I can’t believe all the fashion shows on TV. I mean, seriously. Who really cares about any of that crap?
I have some goodies saved in my Drafts folder, but those will have to wait. For today I have some quickies off the cuff regarding my day job. I’m an IT professional but my boss whores me out as a customer service rep in addition to my standard job duties.
I’m forced to answer the phone, repeat by rote the standard bullshit opening spiel, then talk to some of the stupidest humans in the world.
Here’s a few examples:
Customer: Howdy. My name’s Bob and I’m calling from Texas!