Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

As spring has been slow to rise, life has not been slow on the upswing as we find ourselves saying closer to middle age than not.  Yea . . . I look around, when in the hell did I hit middle aged? Somewhere between 1992 and now I would presume.  Closer to now, but the exact date . . . probably when I started making millennial jokes (some deserving, some just me getting on mid life snark).  Anywho, while I haven’t posted here in a month I have been appearing around the web.   Yes, another moment when I look around and say “how in the hell did that happen?” Let’s see, my main press did an author interview with me.   In it I reveal the secrets of life, love, and happiness.  Okay, well if you’ve either met me or read on here you already know that I long eschewed faith in long term love relationships . . . but, the sides of me that people like certainly appear.  The editors, intern, and such all enjoyed it very much.  Enjoy, if you will....

Bras.  Now there's a thousand dollar subject.  The cost of them, the shape of them, of the fit  of them . . . last ready to wear bra I bought set me back just shy of a hundred bucks.  Yea, a bill man . . . And, to make it even better it was just okay.  Like every other bra I've ever owned it was comfortable for about two wearings and then the real personality appeared.  Yea.  Every woman knows that pain.  Wires digging into you, cutting into the chest bone, or . . . the dreaded jiggle and gap at the cup top.  Okay, the other side . . . spillage.  There's a classy, sexy image.     Any woman will admit--though many will need a bourbon or two to really say it--that a favorite bra, one that fits will get worn until it stinks. You know what I mean. Years later, no amount of soap gets the sweat smell out. Yea. The bra. It's like a woman's inside arm. Of course, 99 percent of bras make us want to rage, pull our hair ou...