I got Hollywood sunglasses from a kiosk in the new Downtown, Branson. They were my first souvenir. The second was an 8-dollar key chain with pictures of us taken at our table in a bar-b-que restaurant by the person who then sold them to us in a nice little key chain. But I won’t talk about that. The picture-taking monopoly in Branson gets Michael all riled up. It was tempting after she took the picture of us, to reach into my purse and ask her to now take the same pictures with my own camera. Would she have done it, do you suppose? Probably. But she would have charged 8 dollars for the flash.
So, anyway, the Hollywood glasses. I call them that because they’re huge and dark and they’re Versace. Actually, they’re “compare our prices to” Versace. But that works for me because I have this ridiculous illusion (um, dee-lusion maybe?) that even if I could afford 500-dollar sunglasses, I wouldn’t buy them because that’s just wrong with all the poverty in the world. It’s a lovely illusion since I’m not actually in a position to have to live up to it.
But I’m terribly disappointed, because I don’t look a thing like Angelina Jolie in those glasses. I look more like a bug or something. It’s very disheartening. I’ve actually never been able to pull off sunglasses. I don’t know why I try.
Puh! That’s not true. I know exactly why I try. People magazine much? Yes, but only if Julia, Jennifer Aniston, or Suri Cruise are on the cover. In sunglasses.