I am relentlessly cool.

PS: IT'S OPPOSITE DAY!

No seriously.

Let it be declared! INTERWEB PEEPLZ, i am totes unkewl.

 ...As if I'll have to convince you after of declaring it "opposite day" - what a game changer...yikes

Here's the truth of it folks, I'm righteously uncool by my generation's standards. I'm not fishing for compliments. (although, I am having a good hair day should you be so inclined to leave me a flattering comment)

This declaration is just my way of being honest - which is becoming more and more difficult in our age of profile pics (oh excuse me, cover photos - see, I haven't even gotten timeline yet) and "Youtubes" (as many a tech-savvy Mainer would say).

Here's a few pieces of solid evidence supporting my uncool status and you'll have to take my word on these since this is The World Wide Web and for all you know I could be a 63 year old man...(but I'm not, I swear)

Uncoolness Evidence:

1. Much to the dismay of many of my classier friends, I am the kind of girl who shamelessly wears sandals even if I don't have a pedicure. (Pasty nail beds, meet the world.)

2. You love Queen? Me too! But I still have to mumble my way through a few lines of Bohemian Rhapsody.

3. Interested in obscure 60's models wearing Chanel/cover art from a hip new album/cityscapes of far off lands ? You won't find them posted on my Facebook - you'll probably find me and the Husband posing awkwardly with whatever food we happen to be eating, which is in fact the complete opposite of Chanel.

4. I don't post Instagram photos. I can't play Words with Friends with you (though if I could I'd dominate!). I am useless if you need to find out the score of the so and so game while in the middle of nowhere. BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE AN iPHONE. In fact my phone can't even access the Internet. (I know, it's a lot to take in.)

5. I married Husband at the ripe ol' age of 22. No more dating around, eye flirting with mysterious men, endless "me time", or indulging in girly stuff like...cleanliness. 

6. I don't brush my hair nearly enough. And it's not because I have waving/thick hair. I have no excuse.

 

7. Looking for a friend who will never embarrass you in public....look elsewhere. I make up terrible jingles about basic household objects on a daily (read as: hourly) basis. They often (read as: always) include the most awkward dances you've ever seen.

8. No one has ever described me as "Swaggin" - though I desperately wish someone would. (Not you, Husband. YOU DON'T COUNT)

Let's be clear. I'm not mocking Millenial coolness. If anything I often suffer from the twinge of jealously that comes from having too many stylish, socially capable, and relevant friends. (I love you all, but damn you're so trendy! How do you tolerate me?)

I mean, I'm not completely clueless.

I don't collect dragon statues or Precious Moments figurines.

I can't quite keep up with the Kardashians, but I'm well aware of their antics (72 days, Kim? Well at least you got to wear Vera. And Kourtney, you really shouldn't dye your hair while preggo).

I shower every day (I mean unless I'm in a hurry...or I'm gonna work out later anyways...or I don't feel like it...yeah never mind) I know how to drive a Prius without getting overwhelmed by all the buttons, and I have a self-possessed sense of style that I'm quite pleased with at times....mostly when I don't spill something on myself within the first hour of getting dressed.

So, all this pondering got me thinking about food. (obviously.) What is the least cool food? I came up with quite a substantial list. And then like a pile of slush (it's wasn't exactly a bolt of lightning kind of revelation) it came to me.

Soup.

Soup sucks. I love it, but in theory it sucks.

The lamest soup of all you ask? Let's see....Pea. It's the soup you always picture as one step above gruel during the French Revolution. It's green. 

What is less cool than a pea? 

People, just look at this little guy.  

Pathetic!

As the next step in this admittedly over extended metaphor, I decided to see if I couldn't make a slammin dish from the the lamest of the lame. So I did my best with this lil fellow and three cups of his friends and family. (ew...creepy word choice...sorry)

SPLIT PEA SOUP

Step #1: First things first, dice 2 cups of celery, carrots, and onion

Should you run across an excessively assaulting onions as I did, you may want to consider some chic eye protection. 

Lily Fryer: NOT voted best dressed in high school

Step #2: Sautee veggies and 1-2 teaspoons Thyme in 2-4 Tablespoons olive oil over medium high heat for 10 minutes.

ACTION SHOT! HIGH VOLTAGE STIRRING!

Step #3:  Add 3 cups of (pathetic) dried split peas and cook with veggies for 2 minutes

It should look something like this...hopefully

 Step #4: Add 4 cups of vegetable stock or 2 cups stock and two cups water.

Organic stock complete with sly smile? BAM!

Step #5: Turn heat to low. Cover. Simmer for 60 minutes or until peas are tender. Add salt to taste.

I promise you this stuff is delicious.

So back to soup....

Soup: Noun - A sloppy conglomeration of ingredients that (in most cases) must be heated or else they become a disgusting coagulated mess. Sounds great huh?

But it basically sums up how I feel about my life sometimes. And maybe you feel this way too. (or maybe I'm horribly alone in this)

Often times, I'm a mess. I'm made up of a bunch of different parts: quirks, passions, and experiences. And usually I need the heat of a little drama/stress/competition (even though I say I hate it) to stir me up and motivate me to move forward. In theory, I suck. And you probably do too.

Even if you're one of the lucky social butterflies I envy, I'm betting that even on your best day you squirm in your skin a little. Part of that comes with the territory of being 20 something, but some of it just comes from being human. (if only negative-emotion-eliminating-technology had caught up by now! sheesh...)

Regardless...Here's the great thing: You're fantastic. Don't think so? I bet you're wrong. I don't care if you collect dragon statues AND Precious Moments and you've never heard of our favorite cosmetically-altered, reality show Armenians.

Not to get too philosophical on you all, but I'm pretty fed up with feeling lame about myself while scanning over pictures of other people's island vacations, family portraits that appear to be straight out of a Ralph Lauren ad, closets full of designer shoes, or statuses about paying off their debts to Sallie Mae (which up until recently I had written off as inconceivably impossible).

There are times when I just need a slap myself. Like, "Wake up, Fryer! Even the most blessed people have issues and imperfections!" (Well, except for Kate Winslet who I'm convinced is made of Marylin Monroe's DNA and porcelain) 

So yeah, back to soup....As any cook will tell you, soup is the best thing to make out of damaged goods - and truthfully, aren't we all a little damaged? So figure out what makes you, you - and instead of running from it - love it.

Throw it all together. Mix it up. Heat it up and Keep it boiling, my little peas. Just do you. You're going places.

And even though I'm clearly no expert on the matter (see below), I think you're pretty cool.

   

Told you.