A funny, silly little moment in the life of a Walking Contradiction...

While running errands this afternoon (quick "Woop woop!" for days off in the middle of the week), I pulled up to a shopping center in my sassy little white Volvo S40. My outfit: a baby pink Banana Republic turtleneck, gray slacks, and black ballet flats. My hair was pulled back in a sophisticated chignon (who doesn't love that word, yo?), and I had some very pink blush going on (can't remember why exactly I felt like playing Dolly Natty today). My iced coffee was nestled comfortably in my cup holder, and the sunroof was cracked just a hair to let in some of the crisp February breeze. I gathered my Kate Spade bag and Blackberry, kicked open my car door...and quickly noticed a fairly handsome middle-aged man staring at me like I had sprouted two heads (both with bubblegum pink cheeks, presumably).

Oh, did I forget to mention that I had Nine Inch Nails' "Pretty Hate Machine" cranked up to full volume? No? How about the fact that I was screeching along to the lyrics while bobbing my head like a fool? Not so much? My bad.

See, now how could I sacrifice such amusement by listening to something more appropriate given my get-up (something in the neighborhood of early-Norah Jones, maybe Colbie Caillat), or by dressing the part (Seriously, do you know how hard it is to get all that black eyeliner to come off? At a certain point, there aren't enough Q-tips in existence.)?

Is it really so odd to heart both Trent Reznor and Audrey Hepburn equally? Me thinks not.