I Am the Unhippest Mama

Seriously, I really am.  I actually use phrases like "unhippest".  I suppose that's okay, I'm not really a hipster kind of gal anyway.  I like things like Lady Gaga or Justin Timberlake and not in an ironic way either.  I have never worn skinny jeans (not on purpose anyway, maybe they shrank in the dryer and I was too lazy to get another pair, okay?  Get your judgy eyes off me!) and I think that pants in neon colors or animal prints are an aberration in the sight of the Lord.  I don't like to drink cheap beer or pay a lot of money for clothes that look like they should be sent back in Marty McFly's DeLorean. 

I mean, I am kind of cool, I guess.  I like Sufjan Stevens, he's kind of a hipster, right?  I own four pairs of Toms shoes (five, if you include the cute yellow cork-heeled wedges).  I like fancy beer (or is that out now?).  I suppose the unhippest thing I have done is abandon the big city that I love so dearly to move into a house in the suburbs.  Despite the fact that we are told it's a buyer's market, we couldn't afford the steep mortgages with in the city limits.  So Dear Hubs and I sent ourselves packing to the far reaches of the suburbs.  It gets lonely out here, but I hardly ever hear the coyotes anymore (I kid, mostly).  I had a baby, and he is clearly the hippest thing on the property.  Seriously, he's a super cool kid, all the ladies think so.  Just try to resist his wily charms.

Okay, time to stop rambling.  I got this first awkward date post thing out of the way.  :)