Posting From Corinne, Warlord and Infamous Lush of Zip code 49505

Hello, again, blogger. It's been a long time since we've had such intimate and (sometimes highly inappropriate ) discussions.

My laptop has made it damn near impossible to keep up a blog. For one, my "m" key is missing. So is the Shift key. So it's a little hard to use. Ehhh errrrr. Whatever. On to the first sweaty glass of Sauvignon Blanc. MMmmmm. And it's just perfectly chilled, too!

And on we go. Let's start with that.

Oh, this bottle is going to be good.

Topic for the night: When adult-ing isn't fun anymore and you just want to crawl into a Mcdonald's Play Area tunnel and live there the rest of your days. Yes. I am utterly sick of being a self-sustaining, mature, placid adult. You know, those seniors? The ones over 70? Now THEY have their shit together.

I'm a hairstylist. I've cut a lot of hair and I mean, a LOT OF HAIR. Most of it men's, elderly or small children's. Well, occasionally women, but the average woman wants to pamper the crap out of herself at a high end salon where she can bleach her hair until you can't stare directly into it without going blind. But the elderly. THOSE. GUYS. KNOW.

They know. You know? They know how to live it up because they've lived longer than anyone else has and they honestly don't give two cents about what you or any other person thinks. I've had men who can't remember what their middle names are but yet they continue to hit on me like a twenty year old would without missing a freakin' beat. Yeah. You know when your mom used to tell you, 'look to your elders, dear!' or well, at least mine did, a bit like that. Well. I do, but I do more so now than before.

So adulting. ADULTING. I've made it a word. Now get over it.

I don't want to be an adult anymore. I don't want to pay for a mortgage or car insurance or fucking, hell... home... warranty... insurance.. I think I pay for that. I'm not really sure. But If I do, I don't want to, anymore. It's not fair! Why do kids get to have the good seat at the table? Why the hell do they get discounted ticket prices and lower costing meals and hell, THEIR OWN MENU at restaurants?? They don't eat any less! I just don't know. 

I have kids. I have two daughters under the age of 7 and they're awesome. Usually. I guess I would say that I'm more of a free range parent, but not always. I hover a little closer at times. Like when we were at the Rivertown play area and this random kid that was playing close to my kids just up and SPEWED VOMIT everywhere. I was like, 'this might be the swine flu, aaaaannnnnnnnddd hey, we should probably leave!' So yeah. Times like those.

It's hard enough that society puts this enormous amount of pressure on you to be a good and dutiful citizen. They're all over there like, 'You need to stand up straight when you walk' and 'Make sure you go to your job and pay taxes so that we can re-pave the crappy Michigan roads AGAIN that we do, like, EVERY YEAR, in the SAME SPOTS' and shit like that. The "Man" wants us to follow in the direction of those peppy little couples on TV, and you and I both know it. We do! Those fucking Macy's commercials where there's always like 4 people and there's a girl who has straight brown hair and super smiley all creepy like and then the one who's not white with a cardigan on and sneakers who is jumping up and down with a few bags like, 'hey, I just stopped here on my way back from Starbucks and I'm ready to buy!' Um. Yeah. And the other two and kids. But like the Justin Beiber kids. Usually in cargo pants. Or whatever.

The commercials for cars where they try to be all like, 'We're just like you! We don't want to spend a lot of money but this app for buying a car is just soooooo sweeeeeet, guys!'.

Can you tell I am not feeling the whole adult thing, right now? I'm sorry. It's just one of those days where I forgot to water my lawn and the plants I bought to impress my neighbors are starting to die. My car's engine light came on and well, I don't have time to take it in. My garbage disposal isn't working and like in the previous statement, I'm not quite sure if I even have a home warranty for it. The shrubbery smells ever-so-slightly like cat piss and I'm pretty sure that it's the neighbor's cat. (Side note: does anyone know what plants besides a cactus can keep those pesky animals away? I'd really appreciate it)

So anyway. This post had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH STAR TREK OR SCI-FI SHIT. I am SORRY for that! I promise that as soon as I find my old laptop, I'll start back up. But there's a post for ya, am I right? About elderly and swine flu and cargo pants? Ehhh? 

:) It's the wine talking. Just not bloodwine, tonight. Although I am about to start Star Trek Nemesis in about two seconds. Either that or Zena, Warrior Princess. 

Stay Classy!

~Corinne