A rain day in New England, forsooth! No beasts, just a burger at Friendly's that was a little too medium-rare. I forgot about the eccoli, ick!
Friendly's are an institution around here. I don't know if other people struggle with this but I happen to look REALLY YOUNG for a thirty-something. Like, sometimes people think I'm a teenager. The waitress apparently thought so too, because I was eating alone and she treated me like a suspect seventeen-year old who was going to stiff her. In-between spraying ketchup on the table. It was really $(#(*#$ annoying, people. I gave her a good tip anyway even though she didn't deserve it in one of those strange altruistic gestures I am prone to (ending a sentence in a preposition! want...to...do...it! gasp, can't).
So what is one to do? Die your hair gray or what? Part of the problem is that I lived in a city for many years where you can be a woman dining alone and no one thinks much of it. Here, in provincial-land, it's a different set of attitudes. Yep, I'm a city snob now, what can I tell ya. But it's true, people! It's true!
Sigh, whatever. These are not real problems, but I'm a spoiled American I guess. I have a friend, lovely gal with a good heart who went to India awhile back. She told me upon returning she would never be depressed again. She said it was mind-blowing. And I could definitely see that. Maybe we should all book a flight, except India has never lured me. Japan, Australia, yeah, India, no, even though I'm sure it would be amazing unto itself. At the very least, you'd get some good curry! Yah yah, bad joke, India is a amazing mystical philosophical colorful place blah blah bleeh bleeh.
Speaking of age, for some godforsaken reason I picked up a copy of Jane magazine recently, which is ENTIRELY geared towards twenty-somethings. And I was actually thinking how PRIVILEGED everyone in the pages was, and probably never even knew it. 'Cause I think about this stuff, being a guilt-stricken Catholic and all. It's weird when you had the Stephen King Childhood yet were raised middle-class, 'cause that is a privilege. It wasn't until I lived in the city that it really came home to me in a variety of ways, and I've been taking notes ever since. But guilt doesn't really help. Not sure what does, but not guilt.
Jane is a little too hip for this geek, although it was pretty amusing in parts. It basically seems to concern itself with What You Wear, Where You Drink Coffee, Cool Cities, Celebrities, and then these Pseudo-Deep Commentaries ranging from essays by the new president of Chile (the deepest one I could find) to a story from a woman who MET JOHNNY DEPP! OHMYGOD! Too funny. What is the deal with him, anyway? Yeah, he's gorgeous and can act, but he's never pushed my Lust Button. Tom Wilkinson, yes, Johnny Depp, no. Which makes me insane to some, but Tom Wilkinson has got to be one of the finest actors ever plus he's 6'3 with nice broad shoulders. Sigh. But Johnny Depp, man -- I guess he's channeling some heavy karmic shit. It's all I can figure. I liked him best in A Nightmare on Elm Street, predictably -- too fun to see him play a horny teenager. I never watched 21 Jump Street, incidentally. Otherwise I would say he rocked in What's Eating Gilbert Grape, one of my favorite movies, ever ever ever. I love that movie better than mad bananas.
Speaking of phallic things, what happens if you are ejected from a plane and land on top of the Washington Monument? Would it be instant castration for a male? Would you bounce a little? Just wondering.
Not much else to say other than burgers, waitresses, and my continuing saga to move on, ever on.
I wish you beauty, I wish you joy.
No comments:
Post a Comment