I’M SO COOL. FRIGIDAIRE COOL.
Take a stroll down memory lane with me.
When I was little I wanted a Barbie Dream House. You know, the totally cool mansion that Barbie lived in with a Ken of her choice. I remember my dad's birthday gift was to be Barbie's abode. He shows up and presents the gift to me like he's standing on a mountain top, holding up the future Lion King. I rip the box open. My face falls. Barbie's Dream House? Crap, I didn't even get Skipper's pool house. I got Barbie's Townhouse. As in Barbie's rent-subsidized condo. As in none of the other Barbies would come play because my Barbie's house was straight from the projects. But I digress. When I was seven-ish, the Barbie Dream House had my heart racing.
Some had deluxe built-in closets. My Barbie had to store her things in a shoe box.
Then about a year later, with their signatured butt-cheeks, Cabbage Patch Kids stole my heart:
Then in 1986, I totally fell in love with Maverick. (BEFORE he jumped on Oprah's couch.)
The pre-teens years, it was funky colored high-top Reeboks.
I grew up a little (Yes, I know. Very little.)and was beyond excited when I got my first giant-sized computer.
After I FINALLY passed that super hard driver's test (ahem, four tries), I was walking on air when I got my first car. A “work in progress.” A Chevy Spectrum.
And no, they don't make those anymore. I think they're illegal in all places but a few third world countries.
And it hit me. I'm so pathetic. If I ever had any cool, it's officially gone now. How sad is it that a stinkin' refrigerator makes me happy?
Stay tuned. Next week I have close-ups of my washing machine. They're just as hot.