I am not a clothes horse or a sunglasses cow.
I am not a celebrity* so where's the need to go incognito?** If you ask me if I am indeed L.A. of lacochran's bloggery, I will probably admit it.
Unless you are someone I work with.
Or a relative.
Or you don't like the name Millard... 'cause that's just crazy, right?! Hey, if we ever meet, let's make a pact to call each other Millard. Nope, just Millard. Like Cher, but way sexier. Deal?
So, anyway, sunglasses... I have a visor in my car to combat severe glare during driving so no need for sunglasses there. Beyond that, I squint.***
Where most people believe that they are protecting their eyes by wearing sunglasses and perhaps even preventing the development of cataracts, I, *waves hands dramatically* with no medical training whatsoever, believe that I am damaging my eyes if I wear sunglasses. Because that which does not make me stronger, makes me weaker. Or kills me. Or something.
It just stands to reason, that if I develop a dependency on sunglasses I will eventually become one of those mole people that can't bear the light of day and winds up living in an abandoned subway tunnel, pulling a shiv on Donald Rumsfeld to get him to fork over bits of trashcan Cinnabon****. Yeah, do all the crazy eyes you want--it's MINE! Where's your secret service now, Rummy?! Where?? And can anyone recommend a good cookbook with low fat, grilled rat recipes?***** Dibs on the tail! Mmmm.
I guess it wouldn't be so bad living in the subway. With the white noise of the nearby trains it's probably pretty restful.
* Except perhaps on Celebrity Cruises where apparently everyone gets to act like a horse's ass.
** Why do celebrities who are avoiding the public/paparazzi wear sunglasses that are three times normal size, thereby drawing more attention to themselves?
*** This is really helping my Clint Eastwood impression. And my Popeye impression... well, half-way. Ack-ack-ack.
**** Cinnabon is the CinnaBOMB!
***** I hear it tastes like chicken. Really ratty chicken.
29 July 2008
Is that moo behind those Foster Grants?
Labels:
cows,
mole people,
paparazzi,
sunglasses
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14 comments:
I prefer m'lord to Millard.
And what is it that makes squirrels better'n rats? I bet they taste the same. And and and, uh, I don't have a second point. Dang.
Tomato, tomahto.
Squirrels need less tenderizer?
I am with ya, Millard - sunglasses are not an accessory! They should only be used when absolutely necessary.
Thanks, Millard!
Oh I don't know how ya do it! I can't even sit through a fireworks display or the laser light show at the planetarium without my shades. Even my swim goggles are tinted!
I believe it's just conditioning, Millard. I'd hate to see you wind up in the subway!
If I stopped wearing my sunglasses what would I push up on my head to hold the hair out of my eyes all day long?
I wear sunglasses so I can stare at girls without them knowing.
Wait.
Forget I said anything.
Millard/Tina: A cowboy hat to go with your Clint Eastwood squint?
Millard/Rs: Your secret is safe with me. It's not like I'm broadcasting it on the Internet or anything. Wait...
The real height of sunglasses-wearing fashion is to wear them at night, in a club with lighting so low you can't read the drink menu. This makes you cool, even if you actually look stupid and walk into things. Oh, and wear that baseball cap sideways, too, for the maximum effect.
Bilbo -- that only works for Corey Hart.
I'm glad I'm not the only one who believes sunglasses are only appropriate for solar eclipses, and that Cinnabon is, in deed, the CinnaBOMB and is worth fighting over.
I wear my sunglasses at night so I can, so I can... you know... keep track of visions in my head. Or something.
Some of us wear sunglasses because they're prescription and if we didn't, we'd be crashing our cars or unable to see who's coming at us down the street. That and who wants the long-term effects of UV on the eyes?
I often get teased for wearing mine as much as I do and one idiot I worked with use to think it was funny to call me "California" because I'd lived in CA and I wore my Rx sunglasses, even in winter. When I finally explained they were prescription, he never commented again. At least, not to my face.
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