Saturday, November 20, 2010

The New Cool...

It's late on a Friday night and I'm sitting here at my computer, listening to dance music.  My cat is laying across my desk, staring at the screen.  Sometimes, if I type really, really fast, he'll try to catch the letters.  My dogs are snoring and passing gas.  My husband is snoring and passing gas.  Could someone kindly pass the Febreeze?  Thanks much.  And I have a tall glass of spring water to my immediate left.  This is the new cool.

The old cool?  Well, Friday nights meant making my hair as ginormous as possible, stuffing myself into some acid wash jeans, poppin' the collar underneath a sweater, picking up my best gal pal, and hitting the town.  If we weren't out on the town, we were at the teen dance clubs.  But mostly, out on the town, cruising up and down the local streets, racing boys who thought they had faster cars, and generally wreaking havoc.  We belonged to no one's clique.  Everyone was our friend and vice versa.  Plain and simple?  We were pretty cool girls in a pretty cool car who drew a pretty sizable crowd.  And can we all agree that the strong aroma back then was Polo cologne and Drakkar?  To me, it didn't matter that the guys bathed in it.  Stuff smelled good.  Okay, so maybe that's one positive point to the olden vs pet gas.

I saw my ol' best gal pal in the grocery store a bit ago.  Haven't seen her in probably 20 years, but thought of her often with nothing but the fondest of memories.  When we noticed each other, we both let out a shriek that was audible throughout the entire store!  People were staring as we squeezed one another until our eyes felt funny.  It was determined then and there...we're still cool.  Because now, we're pretty cool ladies who drive pretty cool family cars and yes, we still draw a crowd. 

I used to love dancing under the strobe lights in the club.  I'd have them playing "The Men All Pause" in no time, because how cool was that to dance to?  But now?  I enjoy seated jamming to "Who's That Chick".  Not Madonna's version, I'm talking Rihanna and David Guetta.  Seriously, if I tried to dance to this with my stiff and sore and creaky ms body?  I'd end up in traction, but it would be well worth it.

Throwback mall trips are now grocery store extravaganzas.  Light-to-light races against silly boys is now a speedy game of what I call Traffic Frogger, because I have to go to the bathroom and am praying to make it. 

MS sure has thrown a wrench into things, but I'm pretty sure this is the new cool for most of us 30-40 somethings...neurological disease or not.  Yes.  This is the new cool.  And the men?  They still pause, but for very different reasons.  Maybe because I've tripped over nothing, dropped something, walked into a pole in the aisle of the grocery store, or achieved a week's worth of groceries in a tiny cart...nonetheless, I've still got it, baby!

I wouldn't mind a remix of my old favorite, where I sub in my own lyrics.  "The men. All. Pause. When I walk into the wall...the men. All. Pause.  The men. All. Pause. When I drop that jarofgrapejellyanditsmashesonthefloor...whoo!"  Clean up on aisle 8?

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