You Take The Cake

34 of anything is alot, especially when they are gleaming candles on your buttercream frosted birthday cake. Yes, dear readers this LRG turns three decades plus four today but despite the crow’s feet headed to Grand Canyon fissure-land, I have little cause for alarm. My spirit (as well as my teley viewing habits) are still akin to the ‘tween set purusing the PB Teen catalogue. Boho skirts instead of dowdywear, Real World as opposed to Desperate Housewives. When I start pining for re-run episodes of Bonanza, Columbo and Murder She Wrote, just kill me…quickly, don’t bother with the oxygen tube. And speaking of must-see-TV, I confess to a new late-night boob tube addiction, Laguna Beach of Orange County highschooler fame. Watching characters half my age and twice my cup size duke it out over Gucci shoes and hot boys is the tops in mindless voyeurism! I giggle as we follow the triangulated escapades of Kristin/Stephen/LC and wonder, was I ever that whiny and insecure? Were my skirts ever that short? Did my boyfriends and I have those sappy, ridiculous conversations filled with puppy love angst? Probably not because lucky for me, I chose first loves well what with an MIT docta and technical guru cum disco king (IT’s Puff Daddy minus a little of the bling) and have no regrets. You’re still brilliant and hot to trot boys and will always hold a place in my memories (and on the phone…I used to wait for ONE of you for HOURS on call waiting).

Thanks to all those who’ve made today and all of my 34 years special.
Love,
TLRG:redhead:

Shopping Cart Shuffle

My dear readers…sincerest apologies for being away for such a spell. As Depeche Mode sings with an androgenous elelctronica backbeat, Enjoy the Silence. I wish I could declare my sabbatical the result of scooner sailing in the luminous sun around Majorca, but alas this is not the case. Would you still love me and send me brownies if I told you all I’ve been up to is simultameoulsy fretting and ruining my manicure while typing away on an ICT grant proposal (YAWN) in my K Street manse? Please forgive me and keep those coconut blondies a’comin.:mrgreen:

Laboring for more than 14 hours a day throws all big thoughts out the window. No reserve energy exists to eat my Kid’s Cuisine Scooby Doo pudding, let alone to think over the merits of transcendalism. But small for snippets of comical ponderance and observations have bubbled to the surface such as:

If so few people have faith these days, why do so many suckers play Powerball? Do folks standing in queques longer than post-Gorby bread lines ever do the math on this? Most friends of mine over 30 can barely remember their cell and Blackberry digits, let alone have the lucky twist of fate to pick 6 winning numbers in a row. And, the people who are the poorest seem to wager the most. They’re like old ladies in West Palm beach with the 15 Bingo cards being played simultaneously. Hope against hope to beat the odds. If we channeled all of this positvity into foreign diplomacy, we could solve the quagmires of Darfur, Kabul, Tehran and the Vatican’s disdain of cafeteria Catholics all in one fell swoop.
The good news? At least humanity still believes in something, right? Cue the sexy Lotto lady.

On to the homeless….I know CCNV’s Mitch Snyder would wap me upside the head for what I’m about to say if he wasn’t so darned non-violent, but what’s with the shelterless indigent and their full-to-the-brim shopping carts? It’s common sentiment that many of the homeless are on the streets because they are either crazy and untreated or jobless and without initiative. Both of these assupmtions fly in the face of street urchins who have the ingenuity to stack shopping carts to the hilt with “desirables” (who cares if its an old, moldy mop?) defying space and gravity. In addition, the cartsmiths in question balance mulitple vehicles through busy urban intersections with crafty bob and weave navigation worthy of Dale Earnhart Jr. Can someone please tell me how its possible to be clinically mad and mumbling about the Kennedy assasination and white chicks while having enough mental muscle to build your own shopping cart shuttlecraft worthy of a trip to Mars? If the homeless applied half that energy to attempting to get shelter assistance or look for a job, life would really look up, eh? Yes, TLRG is already bruised from the pelting that I am about to receive from the likes of Nancy Pelosi and Barbara Boxer, but tell me am I wrong?

And while we are on the topic of shrill and shrieky broads, may I ask the Gen X’ers of the world…am I the only one who’s more than a tad disturbed that this marks the 10th, yes 10th anniversary of Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill release? A Starbucks barista will happily serve up one with your morning latte for $16.95. This makes me feel older than my forehead wrinkles! My how time flies. It seemed like just yesterday when we all were humming about going down, down, down in a the-a-tre. Remember when that was actually controversial? Now we see midgets engaging in foursomes as the Dateline special of the week. Ah, so jaded are we, living in the post-belly ring, low-rise thong decade.

Only broad smiles will be on my lips though tomorrow when I hydroplane out to see my beloved Charlie B and favy-fav city west of the Mississippi, Seattle. I’ve been longing in my bones to see both again but I’ve missed my flesh and bone honey much more. I’ll have a full report from the front, that is if I can drag myself away from my night-time corset classes, the Gnomedex masses and a liquid volume of Mexican hot chocolate equal to Puget Sound. Be well my fans and favs!

Signed,
TLRG :redhead:

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