It’s been a tumultuous few days, what with someone parking a truck in our internet tubes during a critical juncture in our headcheese and scrapple research. Plus, we’ve had loads of new music to blog about, not to mention more political musings to share than you can shake a pundit at.
Husband and I are resilient folk so we’ve been hanging on. By our fingernails, but we’ve been hanging on. After I wasted 6 hours today waiting for Comcast – I salvaged this beautiful early spring day by going for a run with my pals (who I think of as the AlternaMoms).
We were both horrified and amused when we overhead one of their tweenagers remark to her pack, “My mom and the other geriatric riot grrls RULE this neighborhood.”
I’m sure we were little jackasses when we were their age, too. Also, someday they’ll be old, too. If they’re lucky. Also, we can run circles around them. Also, I bet they don’t know…
[here my blogging mojo broke down and I yelled at Husband, “Give me the name of a popular song that’s a cover of a really cool song.” To which he replied, “No.”]
Moving right along…I’m reminded me of this deeply (hilariously) traumatic post I read at The Contrarian this morning in the 8 minutes I had working internet access today. “If there’s a rock-n-roll heaven” was spawned by Casey’s accidental viewing of Mike Huckabee’s demented show on FoxNews.
I risked a relapse in my Huckaphobia to watch the youtube clips that Casey posted, and they’re pretty hilarious. As a bonus, Liz Claman makes me feel like I’m a really great singer.
I’m now filled with this insane desire to perform “I Love Rock-n-Roll” on the Mike Huckabee show. Go read the post and watch the videos.
(Geriatric) sisterhood is powerful. Rock on.
One morning a young chick joined our usual motley assortment of runners, and along the way she mentioned that she graduated from UF. “So did I,” I exclaimed. “What year?” When she answered 2002, I wanted to crawl in a hole and die because she wasn’t even high school when I graduated from college. Instead, I ran her ass into the ground and left her in my tracks, to mix metaphors horribly.