So Cool................NOT!

I’m a world renowned secret keeper. Well, okay. Not quite 'world renowned' but I’m usually real good about keeping secrets. Like when people say, “Hey, Zube Girl…Psssst…I’m knocked up!” I keep that shit to myself. Um. Except for the time when Miss I called me and told me she had a bun in the oven and I was trying to call Zube Boy and tell him ‘cause she said I could, only he wouldn’t answer his damn cell phone because he NEVER freakin' does. And so I decided to send him a text message because he’ll usually call me back if I text him some crazy ass news. The text said, “Miss I is PREGNANT!” And that was supposed to SO shocking and startling that he’d be compelled to call me and ask me about it. Only, he didn’t call me back, and instead announced to the guys in the shop where he works with Miss I’s husband, The Englishman, “Miss I is PREGNANT!” and THEN called me and, well, the fucking secret was out. It was okay, I did a little damage control and stopped the secret in its tracks, and tearfully told Miss I and she didn’t even get mad because she’s cool as shit like that and she has a husband, too. And sometimes, especially when husbands aren't warned, they might just mistake a SECRET for an ANNOUNCEMENT.

That up there was a really fucking long paragraph. I HATE long paragraphs. But, I just couldn't find a good place to split it up. Oh well.

Anyway, other than that time, I’m a good secret keeper. When people TELL me shit and say, “Remember, it’s a secret,” I treat it as such.

BUT, and there always is a but, isn’t there? When I figure out secrets all by myself, I’ll tell that shit to anybody who’ll listen. And that's what I'm about to do. Yesterday, I was sitting around thinking about how, though I prefer mashed potatoes made from scratch, instant potatoes really aren't so bad and they're not NEARLY as much of a pain in the ass to make, when suddenly, it hit me. The secret. I’m going to share it with you because it’s a really important one and shouldn’t even be a secret to begin with. Ready?

There are no cool people. That’s it. No one is cool.

I mean, think about it. There are people out there who profess to be cool and go on and on about being cool, but they’re really just trying to convince themselves that they ARE cool, because maybe other people said so. And there are people that maybe YOU think are cool and all the while they might be thinking YOU are cool or they’re wishing they were as cool as SOMEONE ELSE. It’s like, people think I’M cool, and if that’s not a clue as to how ridiculous the cool label is, ‘cause, PFFFFBT, I am SO FAR from cool, I’m hot. Which, actually I AM hot. That goes without saying. But cool? No. Not even a little. Crawling around on the bathroom floor naked meowing at your cats is a far cry from something a cool person would do. Actually, it's questionable whether or not I was even hot at that moment. I bet I still was. But only a little.

Anyway, since I’ve gone and spilled the secret, we can all stop worrying about being cool now. Okay? If you don’t hear from me for a few days, I’ve probably been kidnapped by the Secret League of the Cool Illusion Perpetuators and they're probably torturing me all Clockwork Orange style. They'll let me go eventually when my body's natural reaction to saying, "There is no such thing as cool," is to throw up all over myself.