Indifferent Old Broad

I think I need a dose of something or other. Pot likker. Castor oil. Kerosene and sugar. Something odd and ugly with roots in my deep, dark past. Something that would really get my cells' attention. I'm not myself lately. I don't know what the problem is. But, I'm just not grumpy. Not like I used to be. It's like I'm numb. I just don't give a rat's patootie.

I put up a couple of posts lately, but took them down today because they were just lame. I wrote them simply to be writing - not because I really cared a flying flip about the subject. I just felt like I should get on here and pretend to be grumpy. It doesn't work that way, I discovered.

Not that there's a lack of things to be grumpy about. Let's take celebrities, for instance. I could get all grumpy about the Hollywood Party Girls. You know who they are. I'm as sick of seeing their naughty bits and stoned little faces as anybody. But, you know what? Until one of them runs her Mercedes or Escalade into me or my kid...it really doesn't make a shit.

Speaking of my kid....would you tell me why that horrible actress in the Philadelphia Cream Cheese commercials...the insipid blond, not the brunette...has steady work and my beautiful, smart, talented kid sends out endless headshots and works her little butt off trying to get the smallest of breaks, and all she runs into are guys who are simply trying to figure out how to get her clothes off. There is no justice in the world. But, then again....I don't have to see my beautiful, smart, talented kid wearing strap-on angel wings on national television, do I? There's got to be some value in that.