Observations and Musings on the Subject of Age...

Explain this one to me, dear friends. When did I become an old lady?

I remember a time not so long ago that I would spend all day tanning in the back garden, go to work at 5pm, then go on to a club and get back home on the night bus, only to be back at it again the following day.

There seems to have been some weird shift that I'm not aware of, wherein I now make statements like "I rememeber a time..." I have begun to refer to a certain demographic as 'Young People'. "Young People's music confuses me and what the hell is 'Twittering'" I rant like an old lady wrapped in a Snuggie at the old folks' home. Hell, I KNOW what a 'Snuggie' is...

I guess I should be thankful that I'm at least realizing my shift and not desperately grasping on to every tiny shred of youth I possibly can by being the token beer buyer in the park with the cool 'kids' and displaying my middle aged spread in a tummy top like a warm tube of biscuits that's busted along the seam. Drinking 20/20 and blathering on about how I hope Lady Gaga comes to town and offering to buy the tickets on my Platinum Business AmEx.

Those women scare me... almost as much as the stretched, inflated, Baby Phat Cougars at the mall with their Coach purses and Bedazzled IPhones. Bwahaha... scary...

I guess I should be thankful that these days, my favorite pastime is to play 'Mole or Melanoma' and count down the hours until I can take a nap. It's a good life...

I just wish I knew when it happened. What sparks the change from post-teen to pre-middle aged nag? When we become adults, we have a pubescent period. That's the universe's way of telling you. "Things Are Gonna Change" and you can prepare for it.

Maturity on the other hand seems to creep upon you in the same way that your waistline does.

You kinda, sorta remember the person you once were but in third person- like a young kid you look back at fondly as an old friend... I guess that's the safety mechanism- it's safer imagining it was someone else throwing up in the rest rooms at The Ruskin Arms. Poor kid...

Part of me wishes that I could do the things I used to- strap on a Spandex top, grab the glow sticks and party all night. Part of me looks back at that girl and thinks, 'Good on ya, kid. Enjoy yourself' call me if you need bail money.

It just makes you wonder what else is going to happen over time. What freaky things will I realize about myself and how fast will the world move and leave me standing?

I am already baffled by Social Networking. Ironically, much to the chagrin of my Mother who seems to spend most of her waking hours watering virtual plants and leaving status messages.

I tend to pop in once in a great while and am instantly reminded of why I rarely visit. The reams of emails in my inbox inviting me to join Sausage Roll Appreciation groups or view the "LOL" 28 people left on a comment that I was unfortunate enough to 'like' become overwhelming. It's like going to the ACTUAL mail box and being showered with old-school fan mail. Except it's all rubbish.

It's all just so bloody meaningless and tiring. Urgh!! Call me, my fingers hurt from clicking the delete button on my stupid Blackberry that I don't know how to use properly.

Wow... when did this HAPPEN??

Corelone Creepiness

You know the scene in The Godfather where **Spoiler Alert** Marlon Brando does the oranges in the teeth thing and then keels over in the tomato plants?

That scene would have been WAY pervier if he had done the Mick Jagger tongue with a strawberry...

Fight Club Logic

While attempting to carve my name on the electronic school desk that is The Blogosphere, I have spent the last 45 minutes of my life playing with the templates available from Blogspot- trying to work out which template 'DEFINES' me as a person...

Try saying that sentence in a faux English, draggy accent like the ladies from Park Avenue... add a "Daaaahrling" and a brandy snifter.

GOD I am shallow...

So This Is Not Christmas (and what have i done?)

I have decided (largely because my brain is an endless maelstrom of floating garbage that I apologize in advance for unleashing on the digital world) to share. With you... my faceless, nameless, nickname buddies. I hope there are many of you- and I hope you visit often.

Thank you for visiting my blog. Hopefully in sifting through the cerebral rubble, you'll enjoy the stay!