It’s not like I don’t have a respectable list of things I should be doing, or could be doing, for that matter, instead of spending the better part of a perfectly lovely spring day languishing at the computer. But the fact is, that’s what has occurred. They (the Royal they) counsel that hanging around the wrong places for long enough will get you into trouble. Though I wouldn’t exactly describe it as “trouble” I’m in, I did somehow manage to make myself, well – vexed, green with envy, disgruntled, discouraged - no! tell it like it is! - frankly pissed-off.
In my wanton trolling around the internet, I somehow came across a shocking fact. It’s enough to make me abandon my gym membership and to call my colorist and cancel my standing appointment – I mean, why bother? While I’m at it, I might as well trade-in my Argentine tango shoes and fish-net tights and resort to the inevitable - inevitable? – oh, don’t even thinkinevitable – orthopedic shoes and support hose. I could order one of those scooters that “old people” use. If I did own that scooter, I’d jump on that little puppy right now and head on down to the first doughnut store I could find. I’d have my way with a dozen or so and promptly proceed to an establishment that offers “31 flavors” – and try each and every one of them.
I mean, why not? I might as well eat. We all might as well eat. I’m not even her age. This simply proves what I’ve always suspected: there is no justice!
Tina Turner is a great-grandmother.
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