hey, shitface, get off my lawn!

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……

it's not just salt and pepper....

it's not just salt and pepper

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?

my thoughts exactly....

exactly....

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.

our father, who art in LA, l. ron hubbard be thy name

our father, who art in LA, l. ron hubbard be thy name

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 am from a thirst world country.

i am from a thirst world country.

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!

monday-sunday night, baaaaby.....

monday-sunday night, baaaaby.....

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9 responses to “hey, shitface, get off my lawn!

  1. An excellent post (as usual). Now, wait a second, you? Getting old? Not possible. You’re doing a Benjamin Button thing, reversing backwards in age, getting younger, more beautiful, stronger, better, harder, faster.

    Something about pictures of Baby Suri freak me out… Except for this one.

  2. Do you find yourself eating a lot of that yogurt that makes you shit regular, Peanut?

    You know what makes me feel old? That “divide your age in two and add seven” rule for who you can date now puts the JC girls, prom-dateless and emancipated minors who eat that Twilight shit up out of my range.

    Now that I’m finally in position to roll up to the local hangouts and be like, “hey girls, your BFs may be on the football team, but I have a nice car and money and booze,” it’s no longer socially acceptable.

    And even if it twere, they wouldn’t get my jokes.

  3. hahah, am i in the desert? am i in the middle east trying to get sayid to work for me? no! i’m on the island shooting john locke again!
    the shit inducing yogurt commercials always make me laugh….hell, i’m laughing now! all the people always jump around looking so happy. and why? because they shit a lot, that’s why!
    do not give up the pass time of hanging out in high school parking lots! or at least move to florida to do it, the age of consent there should still be 16 :) it is still socially acceptable in my book!

  4. If I could read this comment thread while taking a shit, that would make perfect sense. And, we know you miss Boone, Peanut. It’s cool. But you gotta realize he’s in a better place now: Hitting on guys in TV character heaven.

  5. You guys are much stronger emotionally than I am since you’re still watching Lost. I only watch reality TV now.

    I feel you on the shoes, Peanut. It’s rather unfortunate, but after the umpteenth time of walking around barefoot because I could only take wearing a pair of uncomfortable shoes for about 10 minutes, I’ve decided it’s now all orthopedic shoes all the time.

  6. For anyone curious to know: Marco Sparks’ shoes are both incredibly comfortable on his strong, manly feet (I’d describe them as feeling like it would feel to walk on the cushioned lucullan spines of baby angels) and also frighteningly sexy and nigh fashionable.

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