Undermoderated

This is what happens when shit gets unreal

I’m Cool…

I’m cool, like Dave Navarro in a striped rugby and garden clogs is cool. Which is to say, I am not cool. (However, I can eyeline the crap out of stuff.)

So when someone compliments me about my perceived cooliosity, I often seem like a complete ass. I start with “Hahaha… wait, what?” and it devolves quickly into me trying really hard to live up to their (rather poorly placed) faith that I am, indeed, cool. Which I do, of course, by saying “Watch this!”

“And THIS!”

“Hey, look at me!!!”

Actually, it solves the whole conundrum rather quickly, as they generally realize how wrong they were, and they TAKE. IT. BACK. Slowly. Without actually turning and running, because that would be foolish. And Dave Navarro might be gaining on ya. Or he would be, if it weren’t for the garden clogs. They slow a fella down.

So anyway, I was being told the other day, that I was cool, and I was trying mightily to prove the person wrong, when a halftime report came on, and it included a “news” story, about that guy on American Idol, who sang a song he wrote to his brain damaged fiancée. Hey, he’s probably a very talented nice guy, but the person I was talking to actually stopped watching my antics abruptly, and became engrossed. Engrossed, I tell you. And said this…

I did this.

Then I did this!

Then, even Dave Navarro did this

He was relieved, though, because he wasn’t gonna have to run in his clogs. I gave up, and went to eyeline something. I have been cured of trying to live up to this particular compliment.

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