Overthunk

      Last night, I was dragged by my far thinner, more stylish, more trend-conscious sister into Urban Outfitters. These Outfitters, cleverly named as a depot at which you'd gear yourself up for an expedition through uncharted territory (except it's a city), comprise a habitat for the much maligned Hipster: a young person for whom anachronistic bad taste is akin to those two stone tablets we've all heard so much about.      As we entered, with two kids in tow, we were hailed briefly, dutifully, by a vision of Today's Nonconformist Youth: of medium height, relatively slouchy as he carefully folded some t-shirts at a table, cropped hair encircling his head except for a wildly curly blond crown, round glasses reminicent of Rick Moranis, or maybe even Mary Gross, gray v-neck t-shirt dipping low over his sternum, exposing his somewhat abundant chest hair, turquoise cardigan hugging him from behind, loosely flapping at both sides like deboned ...

Can we all make a pact to stop telling little white lies that everyone can see through as well as a freshly Windexed pane of newly minted window glass, and on the flip side of that, to stop getting angry when people tell the unvarnished truth? Don't say, "I can't do that because I emailed my boss (on a Sunday) and I heard back (within moments) and they won't let me miss that day OR have someone else take over for me OR ask someone else to do my work temporarily, AND I may get fired if I miss even five minutes of work (not true because I know the company you work for and its policies)." Do say, "When I realized that the thing I volunteered to help with would require greater than zero effort on my part, I felt oppressed by an ever-increasing sense of the mandatory. Therefore, I'd like to not do it, please." Don't say, "I don't care. Where do you want to eat?" Do say, "While I realize that my saying so may not c...