Dressed in a fabulous new outfit, with perfectly blown out hair and brand new shoes, I emerged from my home and walked to my car convinced I couldn't possibly look any cooler. As if in a Salon Selectives ad, I leapt out into the street, hair bouncing and handbag swinging. Feeling far to fabulous to actually look where I was going, I stepped directly into the rotting maggoty decaying carcass of a rather large dead pigeon.
I had no choice but to admit defeat, concede that I will never be nearly as cool as I imagine, and returned to my home, where I put on sweats, turned on the TV, and cut my losses on a charming pair of kitten heel boots.
I may have lost the battle, God, but I shall win the greater war.