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.