I’m sitting in San Francisco Coffee Roasting Co. on Highland Ave., quite disappointed at the lack of outlets. Free wifi is useless without adequate outlets. And now, I have 38 minutes (and counting) to write this post before my battery dies (probably less than that because the timer is never accurate), unless I snake my power cord across the aisle to the closest outlet and risk someone tripping. And by “someone,” I mean me, because that’s the most likely scenario.

Last night, I was trolling blogs, and I came across this photo and commentary. (Scroll down until you see the athletic socks.) I sort of guffawed and turned my computer around for the J-Man to see. “I’m dorky and ridiculous, but I don’t think that even I would do this,” I remarked. “Dude, you would TOTALLY do that,” he replied. After considering for a moment, I said, “You’re right, I would.” I did, after all, wear electric blue pool shoes with my bikini and bangin’ body when I was 16–an age when most girls would suffer from cut feet (I was at a rough beach) and deal with it with a pedicure later rather than ruin their image with something as atrocious as pool shoes.

And that all got me thinking of all of the other things I do in the name of practicality. I’m on a constant hunt for acceptable large sunglasses not because I want to look like Jackie O., but because I put them on over my glasses so that I can see AND not squint. Instead of dealing with gross, sweaty feet in work-appropriate close-toed shoes, I’ve worn cropped pants, knee socks, and flats. And while panty lines (I HATE the word “panty.”) are bad, thongs are worse, so I am in no way above granny panties paired with tight pants. When winter comes, I might dress decently, but I always top the outfit off with my Lands’ End parka. Sure, I have a lovely wool trench coat, but it’s impossible to do things like get in and out of cars when I’m wearing that. An ski-style jackets are just so much warmer. Speaking of warmth, there is also a photo of me standing in front of the Washington Monument with a pashmina (Look at me, down with the fashion terminology!) wrapped around my head because wearing it as a scarf just wasn’t cutting it and I didn’t have a hat.

And now, the outlet-hogging woman at the table next to me got up and a dude in basketball shorts and Rainbow flip-flops (Are those really that comfortable? Or are they just trendy? Because clearly, if they are not comfortable, they are useless to me.) swooped in and took the table before I could gather my stuff and slide over there to charge my laptop, and I am angry at him and his happily charging MacBook. Over and out.

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