Why so irritated? First of all, in an attempt to stop biting and picking at my nails, I've gotten these fake acrylic things put on. No matter how many times I say "shorter" to the woman doing my manicure, she never believes that I really want extremely short fake nails. I guess it doesn't make a lot of sense. So they are longish and fakey and click when I type, making me feel like a secretary in the insurance firms where I used to temp in New Jersey.
A quick question, speaking of secretaries. When did normal people start wearing stripper shoes? I stopped in the mall on the way home, (because I had to use the bathroom quite urgently, which is a whole other story I will spare you fine readers, but suffice it to say, adding to the cranky), and in the window of Bakers, in the shoe section of JC Penneys, in Naturalizer for God's sake, everyone's selling those super-high heels that also have the platform part under the sole. I call these stripper shoes. I'm sure there's another word for them, but come on. As I drove home from the mall, a young executive crossed in front of my car in business attire - blazer, knee-length skirt, laptop, and...patent leather stripper shoes! Do I sound old? I feel like I sound old.
Which brings me to:
The Grammys.
Last night I watched - or rather fast-forwarded through- the Grammys. Watching awards shows always makes me feel like I've eaten too much junk food, a little greasy and bloated. These are the salty hangover-y questions circling my morning-after mind.
1 - Who the fuck is Lady Antebellum? I understand this is on me, and represents my rapid sliding away from pop culture, but is anyone with me on this?
2 - Talk about stripper shoes! Ladies at the Grammys are stripper-o-rama. I fell in love with that Janelle Monae last night, rocking a tuxedo and snappy loafers. I realize again that I sound old, but I just don't care. Rihanna is amazing and captivating and I can't take my eyes off her, but those crazy slow-motion-23-skidoo-knees-opening-and-closing moves are so very stripper-y. Most of the ladies had been taking pole dancing at the gym. Et tu Gwyneth? But then, like a vision: a young, beautiful, talented woman wearing a tux and leading a band like a bandleader. As a woman, as the mom of a young girl, hell, as a crotchety old feminist...thank you, Janelle Monae.
3 - Lady Gaga showed up in an egg. I read that line on Yahoo News before the show started and I laughed out loud. There's really nothing more to say.
4 - I'm not interested in Mick Jagger. You heard me. I'm 40 now and I'm entering that stage of life where you just tell it like it is and let the chips fall. Rolling Stones? Not impressed. Never have been. Oh, that felt good.
5 - Bad marriage moment. When I shared my previously-closeted feelings about the Stones, my husband said, "Really? I feel the same way about the Beatles." Time froze. My guitar gently wept. In a marriage of nine+ years there are moments when you have to step away and let it be. Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be. I whispered words of wisdom and I let it be.
6 - There is something that will always be super-sexy to me about seriously damaged dudes. Evidence: Eminem.
These are my "red hot shares" as they call them in my daughter's first grade class. And, coincidentally, in some 12-step meetings. Hope my snark wasn't too snarky. And seriously, who the fuck is Lady Antebellum?
I could care less about the Beatles AND the Rolling Stones. Unless you're the guy I want to fuck in which case they are both AMAZING!
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