Aaron Owns a Man Purse and Other Secrets

You think you know a guy, and then he brings his man-purse to your house while wearing brown socks and loafers, nevermind the headgear, and, well...., your view of him changes somehow. Not that owning a man-purse is wrong or anything. It's just, jarring visually.

The guy mutates, some would say matures, into a dad. Let's take Aaron as an example. Man-purse? Check. Laughing at own corny jokes? Check. Enjoying the bendy bed just a little too much? Check.

We all came to this conclusion: a person only has so much coolness in life. Some, like Bill Gates suddenly become cool at 50 because, hey, 70 billion dollars would make even Carrot Top cool. Some burn it out as cute, cherubic babies. And some burn the cool in the teen years. Making out with hot babes. Driving fast. Shooting hoops, draining threes and turning confidently down the floor before the ball touches the net, while winking suggestively to the breathless, swooning cheerleader jumping for joy at your athletic prowess. 2 Cool 2 B 4 Gotten. Now that's cool.

Aaron was that cool, but somewhere between the socks, man-purse and jokes something happened.

Aaron is now officially uncool. While playing Spades, Aaron and I were partners against Steve and Rhonda. Playing to 500 three times, we traded wins and Aaron and I won the play-off in a nailbiter. NICE! Fun to play Spades again.

The conversation turned bizarre, as is wont to do, when the four of us get together. On the iPod? A little of this an' a little of that. "Let's listen to some Eagles," says Rhonda. Great. Hotel California comes up. Everyone's singing or humming along, playing cards when, out of nowhere Aaron and Rhonda sang, a little too loudly I might add, this:

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of COITUS, rising up through the air

Steve and I in unison: "What did you just say?!"
Them: "Coitus."
Me: "That is not the word."
Them: "Rewind it! Rewind it! Yes, it is.You'll see."
Wow. All these years I just blew through that line. How did I miss such a great word in a song I sing all the time? We rewound it.
Steve: "I don't hear it. But I can't tell what they're saying."
Me: "Me either."
Off to the internets thingy to find out. And here's what I found:

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air

What the heck is a "colitas"? Another search. According to this, it means "little buds", you know like pot, Mary Jane, marijauna, etc. Something you smoke.

So after this little bit of research and education, the Wileys were disappointed to say the least. All these years, enjoying singing about coitus only to find its coliitas.

Officially: uncool.