Thursday, January 26, 2006

Used to be Cool

There was a time, long before hair loss, when I was cool. Seriously. And despite my best efforts at remaining 23, I aged. But more than that, I got less cool. And now, as I sit here in my Banana Republic khakis and mock-turtleneck sweater, I realize how far in the rearview cool is. Gone are the motorcycles of my past, replaced by sensible Subarus. And when you're bald, frankly, there's not a whole lot of interesting things you can do with your hair. Worse yet, it'll be twelve-plus years before my son is old enough to go to bars, leaving me with no one to watch live music with.

It's sad, really.

I say this all merely as an introduction to my friend Jeff's blog: He is almost 40, and yet manages to stay cool. Hats off to Jeff, even if you, like me, risk sunburn by doing so.

Of course, there is an upside to leaving cool behind. For one, when you drive, cops don't follow you around suspiciously. For another, you generally get a decent table at restaurants. Unless you arrive with an 8-year-old child.

Today, as usual, I entered the shower room at 24-hour fitness following a stellar workout. I carried my shaving stuff and exhilarating facial scrub, anticipating a nice, relaxing shower. Unfortunately, I was met with a strong urine smell, completely destroying the experience. Yes, I wear flip-flops, and I'm not going to completely blame whatever George Costanza urinated in the showers for the massive cuts I endured while hurrying through shaving, but a pox on whomever is responsible for this heinous act! It's bad enough showering with three other naked guys as the muffled sounds of Janet Jackson filter through the walls.

Some have asked, "Well, Lefty, why do you shower at the 24-hour fitness?" and, to quote one particular wisacre, "What is this, Junior High?" I do have my reasons.

I am a practical man, but also one who loathes group showers, lockerrooms and in fact, public restrooms. However, when the shower in your worth-only-slightly-less-than-$1 million San Francisco home:

a) measures out at a spacious 9 square feet (that's a 36" box, or as we prefer, "coffin.")
b) has absolutely no water pressure since the plumber fixed the leak. As my wife says, "That leak doesn't sound so bad now, does it?"

Well, you get the idea. Eventually, and some day soon, we will redo our bathroom, much as we redid our dated and odd kitchen last year. Oh, the glory of our kitchen!

And yes, if you're doing the math, our house has one (1) bathroom. Next house I sell, plus the proceeds from any magazine articles I write, all of it's going straight to that bathroom remodel, so that I may shower at home, away from friendly Buddhists and urinating strangers.


Blogger Ken Dunque said...

LER - I was checking with some people who knew you back then and they can positively affirm that you were never actually cool. I appeal to the buddha in you to let this storyline from your past go, let it dissolve away, focus on the out-breath. Because let's face it, those BR khakis are pretty comfortable - especially with the stretch waist option.

5:16 PM  
Anonymous Lesley said...

If Jeff is still cool, then the answer to your lost coolness is obvious: tatoos.

7:32 PM  
Blogger Chris said...

Re the Jeff cool factor: let's not overlook the Beastie Boys aspect to his wardrobe, only made possible by the fact that he is his own boss. (Actually, I am his boss, but I only dress him for special occasions.) To get the same look, just buy whatever you buy for Allie in a bigger size.

9:40 AM  
Blogger Chris said...

Oh, btw, Jeff had a dream last night that you purchased some "crimson and gold shoes". Maybe that'd be a step toward regaining your former cool, sans flock-of-seagulls hair.

9:41 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Who would have thought that an aversion to public restrooma and showers could be hereditary?

10:46 AM  

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