Sometimes? I have cool friends who let me do cool stuff. I don’t mean that my friends aren’t cool, because actually ALL of my friends are cool, which makes me want to be their friend, which in turn, makes me cool. Or something. Or maybe my coolness rubs off onto them? Hm… something I haven’t figured out yet.
Ok. So I have this super-cool friend who owns a Comic Book Shop. Now please understand, I like comics but I’m very ignorant. I know who most superheroes are and I adore Archie (why oh why does he keep picking Veronica? Although Betty seriously needs to grow a back-bone) and I like Snoopy (who doesn’t????) but that’s the extent. So when I asked (read: begged on my knees and cried like a little girl who had skinned her knees severely) if I could work at Comic-Con, he said
It took me months to figure out a costume. Something super-cool, right?
Lara Croft, of course!
And I worked my cookies off. I sold t-shirts with a super-cool girl named Michelle and it was fun and exhausting. And then Saturday I moped around the house because I wanted to go back and I was so tired that I was grouchy and unpleasant to my boys and finally my husband made me have a nap and I felt better. And the next day was Mother’s Day. But hubby was working. So I dressed up my child into GI Joe and we worked the t-shirt deparment again. Along with walking around and taking pictures of supercool costumes and then we got t-shirts!!!!!
Best part? When the boy said I was cool.
Reading: Dead After Dark (I know, I know!)
Eating: Shawarma. Which was an immediate mistake
Listening to: a plane?