Some days I realize how out of sync I am with greater society. Not only because I have missed out on some of the cultural zeitgeists, but even when I make it to the cultural party, I just don’t enjoy it.
Cases in point…
1. Bacon. It’s smoky, chewy, and I really don’t like the idea of licking a pig’s belly. Do you know where that thing has been? And why would anyone want to ruin a perfectly good cupcake or piece of chocolate with that disgusting mess? Ugh.
2. The Lord of the Rings. No, I didn’t read the books, but I saw the movies. And they were awful. All they did was walk and talk about the ring. For the love of Pete, get to the stupid volcano and toss the thing in already; I’m out of popcorn and I need to pee.
3. Anything by Ernest Hemingway. I don’t mind spare prose, but what I do mind is misogynistic, and worse yet, boring prose. I’ll toss William Faulkner on here too. As I Lay Dying made me want to die. From boredom. Silver lining: I’d be the first woman to die from boredom. That would be cool.
4. Mustaches. ON EVERYTHING. This was cute for about 5 minutes. And then hipsters got a hold of it and wrung every ounce of adorable out of it. Those furry lip caterpillars were everywhere. There were shirts, glasses, people snapping selfies with mustaches drawn on their fingers. My son has a shirt with a bulldog wearing a monocle and sporting a mustache. I think I approve only because of the monocle. A bulldog in a monocle reminds me of Winston Churchill. And that’s funny.
5. The Office or Glee. I put these two together because I had the same reaction to both. Friends loved, loved, loved these shows. Couldn’t say enough good things about them. They would act out scenes or start a hootenanny in their honor. They sounded good enough. I like things that are funny or musical. And then I watched them. A few times even, just to make sure I didn’t miss something. And I didn’t miss anything. They were boring. Totally boring. Not one chuckle, not one urge to sing. Nothing. I now question my friends’ tastes in everything.
6. Colored jeans. Especially on men. I really want to get all on board with this. I want to want a closet of seafoam green, pastel pink, and fire engine red jeans. They seem like a cute idea. Livening up Casual Friday like they do. But, in reality, pastel skinny jeans suck your self-esteem and dye your legs Easter egg colors. Great in theory; terrible in practice. Like Communism.
That’s about it folks. I’ll just take my cultural canapes and go. Unless they’re made with acai, bulger or pistachios. Then I’ll throw them into the trash can wearing a mustache and head home.