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12:24 p.m. - 2010-10-13
Mental Spoo of The Ridiculous Kind

"The time has come," this walrus says, "to speak of many things. Of hybrid cars, Krieger's guitars and why I don't wear my rings."

My apologies to Lewis Carroll.

Robby Krieger's guitars aren't really the problem, it's having 'Riders On The Storm' stuck in my head for the last three days. It's my absolute LEAST favorite Doors' song. Followed closely by that snazzafratzen 'LA Woman'. Seriously. You have any idea how fricken sick I am of having, "LA WOMAN!…dunt der ner nunt nunt…LA WOMAN!" bellowed at me by people who think they're being clever? It's right up there with the slimy assholes who dedicate 'California Dreamin' to me and slope up suggestively waggling their eyebrows over the line, 'I'd be safe and warm if I was in LA.'

Fun…neee! Fricken hilarious. Wow, you're like only the millionth guy to do that, you moronic little twerp.

Ah well, shake it off, girlfriend, your days of being propositioned by anyone, clever or not, are pretty much over and you're safe now. At least from the Mamas and Papas. The Doors thing…feh.

Hybrid cars. This is going to sound utterly nuts, but it makes me way angrier to see someone in an environmentally-friendly car yammering on their cell phone than it does someone who's driving a big hurky gas-guzzling SUV. I don't know. It's like I expect that anyone who drives a humongus polluting gas hog to be a selfish dickhead anyway, so their being a careless asshole swerving all over the road endangering everyone by yammering and texting just comes with the package. BUT someone who had the social consciousness to purchase a car that at least tries to do less damage and then behaves so irresponsibly is a smack in the snoot.

Toldja it was goofy, but I can't help it. When I see the former I just roll my eyes and think, "Hang up and drive, butthead!" With the latter…

So yeah, you in the Prius tapping your thumbs on your fucking iPhone…I KEEL YOU!

Now, darling, ever kind and gracious Terri said something so sweet the other day. It was how in her mind I always am elegantly groomed and very glam, right down to my lipstick coordinated perfectly polished fingernails.

Terri, dearheart, I ain't got no fingernails no more.

Yeah, I'm still gnawing. I won't go off on some long-winded discourse about how in my efforts to improve my lifestyle choices and get rid of far more self-destructive stress relievers I've cut myself some slack on the nail biting. Whatev. It is what it is and I, LA the Sage, am sans claws and still sporting the raggedy chewed nubs.

So, if all of you who've got that formerly impeccably groomed mental picture would adjust your brain monitors to include in not only horribly gnawed fingernails, but chin wattles and forehead frown lines deep enough to plant radishes in, I'd be most grateful.

I'd post pictorial evidence to help you along, but my $20 web cam shat the bed a few months back and I've been in no big hurry to replace it.


I'm sure you understand why. ~LA


4 Wanna talk about it!

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