Redefining "Hip"

We all define Friday fun differently.  This past Friday night I found myself at the gym.  I'm well aware most of you are thinking  “wow, she really puts the “un” in fun,” but to be fair things get pretty wild post locker room when deciding if I should get on the elliptical or treadmill first. The decision is based solely on which will put me next to the least sketchy person.  The mix of danger and fun peaked while leaving the gym.  I encountered a beautiful mix of Shaft and Jesse James.  This poster boy oftoughness was sporting sunglasses, driving gloves, and neon lit bedazzled rims on his (for a lack of a better term) crotch rocket. 
                            

(Sidenote: If I wasn’t legitimately nervous this dude was a member of the Minneapolis sector of He&%’s Angels I would have slowed down to get a clearer picture, but the parking lot wasn’t well lit and after I realized I had forgetten to turn the flash off I also realized I don’t run very fast.)

 

I spent the drive home fearing I'm now lame. My confidence was soon restored when my sister Sara and her husband, Justin, stopped by after their date. Through the years, I’ve used these two as a gauge of what’s “cool” and tonight was no different. One minute, Justin, was shaming me for not “following” his tweets on the Kluewe buzz, and the next, Sara, was responding to conversation through a compilation of various Beyonce dance moves, unsolicited. After Steph and I had appropriately bored them, they grabbed their sign and headed out. They needed to get home and in bed early because they had a Neighborhood Garage Sale to conduct in the morning. Thanks, Nuahns, for allowing me to see that I haven’t lost my edge. I’m merely redefining what it means to have a “hip” Friday night.