I’m not angry. You’re angry.
Why lose your cool over brassieres, slurping and Kim K? Life is passing you by.
There is this bra commercial that depicts a series of beautiful women celebrating a “wireless” (read: comfortable) contraption designed to be the answer to all your brassiere complaints. It’s still a bra, an unremarkable “foundation”, an undergarment by any traditional definition. It is purported to be better because it doesn’t have the bones of a true secret kept by Victoria, or the luxury price range of La Perla. No big deal, right? It’s a bra.
But in the middle of the incessant television sales pitch, one actress declares that she doesn’t have “the time or the patience” for underwires anymore.
What? What does that mean? I find the statement absurd. Ridiculous. Annoying. But it doesn’t make me angry.
Like so many COVID inmates, I became slightly addicted to true crime television shows, particularly HLN’s Forensics Files. I have been watching now for over a year. The no time, no patience, no wire bra commercial runs ad nauseam on the HLN network, each time poking holes into the logical side of my brain and disrupting my focus and fascination with forensics.
So now I’ve gotten that off my chest.
You know what else doesn’t make me angry? Kardashians. I’ve heard people who never even met a distant KK cousin (thrice removed) express raw and rattling rage at reality television’s royal family. I am not angry at the Kardashians. I don’t know why I would be. In fact, I was just about old enough to be angry at the Gabor sisters when I was growing up. That didn’t happen either. I understood: They lived in a different universe! They had such pretty golden hair, as well as many husbands. It was wonder that I felt, not anger.
Facebook doesn’t make me angry either. However, no thanks.
I am not even angry about high rise Mom Jeans. But I should be.
Weirdly, the angry face emoji and it’s orange sibling (called “pouting” face) has the opposite effect. In fact, these two faces make me laugh.
See?
As a teacher, I loathed and feared the hybrid classroom of our historic pandemic school year. I stumbled around that bilocation, part-virtual/part in-the-flesh place…
