Cool: An Ipod.
Not Cool: Not having an Ipod. :(
Cool: New clothes.
Not Cool: When your dog locks himself in the bathroom, and you've stupidly hung a new bra and shirt on the back of the door, and said animal goes beserk and begins pulling on anything he can get his teeth onto because apparently, he's decided that getting all the hangy stuff down is his gateway to freedom. Because of his insanity, he rips your new bra in half so it looks like two (little) flying saucers with weird straps and also puts a big hole in what was to be your favorite shirt, rendering it and the brazier useless.
Cool: Excercising and working up a good sweat.
Not Cool: Sweating profusely for no reason.
Cool: Wearing sunglasses on a sunny day to protect your eyes.
Not Cool: Wearing your sunglasses inside for any reason, but especially because you think it looks cool or because you have a "black eye". Unless your name is Tina and your husband's name is Ike or unless your name is Bono and you make millions and millions of dollars counting "one, two, three, fourteen", your sunglasses are not an accessory once you cross a door jam, no matter how fashion forward they are or how much money you spent on them. They might be cute perched on your hat or used as a headband, and they always look nonchalant and savvy when looped over a pocket or purse edge, but never, ever because you think you're a movie star or even an above average person or some sort of victim of crime, sporting accident or personal carelessness.
Not Cool: Crossword puzzles.
Cool: Actually getting a dance step right.
Not Cool: Being yelled at for singing flat because you were concentrating so hard on moving your freaking slow-ass feet.
Cool: Peace and quiet.
Not Cool: Children, especially ones who decide they need to kick their sister, causing said sister to jerk--and rightfully so, because the little brat, if anything, has a strong right leg--right while you have a sharp instrument in said sister's mouth. Then you have insane urge to jab child in eye, but know you shouldn't, even though you're sure this is one of Satan's spawn, and you're probably ridding the world of evil by doing so. To add insult to injury, child's mother thinks this is all very funny, and you look like the jerk because you, the stranger, are suddenly the disciplinarian, because you're the one who has to say in a firm, but calm, tone, "Honey, it's very important not to be a little beast while I'm working here." Then you have urge to slap mother, because you're sure that while she's probably an intelligent woman, her lapse in judgment in sleeping with the Devil (who I'm sure was charming and held the door and bought her dinner and pretty things) has produced this child who has now ruined what was otherwise a perfectly nice day.
Cool: Feeling well rested.
Not Cool: Not going to bed because you are still on the computer. Good night.