I am so not cool

For years now, my friend Danielle has affectionately referred to me as a "dag." Now the sad thing is that literally, this term refers to the dirty, smelly, flap o' wool which hangs off the back of a sheep's ass, and gets covered in shit every time it does it's business. No, I'm not kidding. Now in this totally strange country, a "dag" also refers to someone who is (according to Wikipedia) "a likably goofy or unsophisticated person."

Hmmm. Now for a long time I knew this wasn't a compliment, but I also knew it wasn't entirely NOT nice either. Dani herself is a nice person, and every time she said it, it was with a smile and a laugh and a good-natured rib. So I never really got insulted. After all, I KNOW how supremely uncool I am. I KNOW that I am not on the cutting edge of fashion (I *heart* Birkenstocks), technology (my mobile phone is 5 years old), social scene (I'd rather see Billy Joel in concert than the Arctic Monkeys)...etc. In fact I'm so far from the cutting edge, you could say that I am just the crappy knife at the back of the drawer which, when you get it you say, "Why haven't we thrown this stupid thing out yet?" I've never, for one solitary second, been COOL. I've always had friends, I've always been pretty outgoing (except when it comes to the damn small talk), and basically I think I'm either well-liked or well-pitied. But I've never been cool. I'm too fat for cool clothes. I'm too organised and rules-oriented to attend or throw cool parties. What little manners I have make me too un-cool to be mean to people for no reason.

This past Saturday night DH and I got invited to a cocktail party. It didn't take long to realise that frankly, my uncool and very 'daggy' self shouldn't have even accepted the invitation. Uncool Revelation#1: I'm allergic to alcohol and can't drink. I am uncool before I even walk in the door. It's a cocktail party, fer'cripessake! Uncool revelation #2: I asked about dress code, which immediately revealed me as being so uncool as to have to ask that, and then extra uncool when I was surprised to hear that jeans were fine. Uncool revelation #3: We got there an HOUR late and the cool people still had yet to arrive. I even tried being fashionably late and I failed. Uncool revelation #4: I didn't really know anyone except the host and hostess. This requires small talk. Ummm, you already know how I did on this front. Uncool revelation #5: Come midnight, DH and I had to go and rescue the babysitter, while everyone else continued to get slowly smashed and talk about totally inconsequential stuff. Clearly, this party was way too cool for DH and I.

So. Given the choice between a party where everyone is very late, drunk, smoking like chimneys and talking about shit-fuck-all - and being the bit of wool hanging off a sheep's ass....well, I proudly say:

BBBBBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.