so like all good things, even the great Peanut St. Cosmo! gets old. like really old. many things marked this becoming a reality. i tried to ignore them all, but once they all collectively reared their old head, the facts were hard to ignore. first up, and most obvious……
gray hair. two of them to be exact. i only know they exist because i’m not happy with my colorist and am looking for a new one. but now it’s like i have to go sprinting, fuck that, driving back to the old one and say, “cover this shit, and make it snappy!” how does this happen? how how how???? even though you are never on time, constantly try to get me to go to go to your “dj” shows, and tell me the same old stories of the pimp you think you were before you got “married,” i’ll still take you back…..
secondly, shoes. they matter. they separate the girls from the women from the wheelchair bound. i’ve gone from the high up girl in her early twenties to the more conservative one that got tired of taking those shoes off and walking on asphalt to walking around and not pouting. a signal for the end? fuck yes.
third. celebrity gossip. used to love it. eat it up with a little celebrity platinum coated spoon! all the sudden, who the fuck are these people?? what’s an LC? what’s twilight? where are the hills?
i used to have a handle on this stuff, and all the sudden, shit’s just gone off the map. i blame my air traffic controllers. but really, it’s a stressful job. they do as much as they can. but maybe i’ve just lost touch….with superficial bubble gum sugar free stuff not worth the internet paper it’s not written on? no, no…that’s not it. i’ve just lost touch.
fourth. kids. sorry mom sorry god….i may never have kids. those little heathens tend to run wild. in grocery stores, in restaurants, during my cell phone conversations….they run wild! and in the wrong *republican* hands, tend to wear awful shoes…..but they just tend to be a little bit too much of a liability.
yes, they can be cute. you want to take them and have them photographed over and over and sent to all your jealous relatives, have them learn foreign languages you don’t speak, put them in Montessori schools, etc. or you can be just another pregnant mami waiting for their 15, excuse me, 30 (?) minutes of fame. or it can be the absolute worst, and who knows, it may even be due to your upbringing.
lastly….yawn….i know, up past jeopardy/your bedtime right? well up last is the decline of binge drinking!
i go to bed at almost reasonable times. i wake up almost when the alarm goes off. jose cuervo and i do not text. hell, i never had his cell number. what does it all mean? i don’t know….fuck off, i’m fixodenting!