Month: September 2018

Got nothin. Nada. One of them.  As much as I like to be the spokesperson for a whole generation of amazing people, I realize I’ve succumbed to the blah.  Have already bitched about everything.  Sometimes twice.  Is it really possible that the Boomlennial experience is passé?  Not a chance!  Now I’m fired up!  This week my Manfriend and I had a midweek play date.  It felt like being on vacay.  Wander weekly, right?  Historically, I’ve mastered the bus tour.  (Grabbed you yet?). Whenever I’ve visited a new city, my first stop is Greyhound or Lolly the Trolley, or whatever catchy name they come up with.  You see the sights, get the history, and learn what you want to revisit during your stay.  But I realized I’m probably missing a lot locally because I just don’t have that background.  And since Manfriend is also a trier off we went to Cleveland.  First stop, West Side Market for grungy brunch and to decide if triers eat pig feet.  They don’t. Yet.  Then hoppin on the bus for an afternoon of sightseeing and mind expansion.  And a$$ expansion. Those Lolly seats are really hard.  And tight.  And you can’t cross your legs or move them.  That’s alright!  Part of the flavor!  Boomlennials don’t care (yes they do shhhh).  Final leg, through rush hour which should have been no biggy in a bus, but it was a bit harrowing. And the bus driver took a turn for the worse and had more conversation with the other drivers while still wearing a microphone ouch.  Flavor remember, flavor.  And need for a drink #strong#martini.  Then up to the 32nd floor of the Hilton to enjoy a beautiful view of the city and Lake Erie.  If I wasn’t immediately nauseous and vertigoish.  Damn getting old sucks.  However, who knew that the cure was alcohol.  My doc and I need to have a talk.  Think she’s steering me wrong with way less fun drugs.  Brief viewing opportunity but off again!  We were on a mission. Great dinner at an old ethnic restarant that has withstood the test of time with great food, Boomlennial waiters who might still actually like their job, and medicinal wine.  What a day!  Did the Boomlennial proud. #Tappedintoanunforgettableexperience #canIgetanamen

I’ve inherited a new group of peeps in the last couple years from my main Peep, alas.  What could have been an interesting learning experience has become a Boomlennial flagellation (word porn). When you have long term peeps, you like them and accept them and don’t have to judge.  But new ones?  Gasp.  They think they are interesting.   Reeeeeeeally interesting.   Or so consumed by their life that they can’t imagine anyone else not being as fascinated.  Or maybe never had anyone just say hey dude, you are boring the sh*t out of me.  And it’s not just one snoozer.  There are lots!  I guess it’s a sign of being a seasoned citizen that you just don’t care about other people anymore.  You are entrenched in you and that is satisfying enough.  How they keep themselves awake still baffles me but I’m starting to think I’m the one that just doesn’t get it.  I’ve sat through whole dinners #vacations with people who couldn’t pick me out of a lineup.  Or play the game where you give three answers to questions and have to pick the one that is a lie.  And my questions would be are you male or femail?  Do you speak English?  Are you endlessly fascinating?   Maybe I’m just missing my old peeps who know way too much about me and like me anyway.  And are capable of having a conversation and not just talktalktalktalk.  I’m starting to get worried about my Boomlennial bretheren.  We have to remain somewhat interesting because those generations behind us sure don’t think we are.  And they aren’t.  Don’t prove them right.  Stay relevant!  Don’t babble!  Pretend to care about other people.  Fake it till you make it.  Your manifest lack of interest is an egregious failure (sentence porn).  I know you think you’re interesting but yeaaaah, you’re not.

I hate history.  The more I learn about the world I’ve been inhabiting for long enough to know something something, the more I admonish myself for being so clueless.  Over the Labor Day weekend I visited the third tallest national monument in the country.  Gotcha!  I’ve seen it every summer for most of my life but didn’t know why it was erected (and yes it looks like a big phallic symbol) and what it stood for, ahem. (There is another great joke on the tip of my tongue if I wasn’t so darn classy.).  So I visited it once again and really tried to learn something.  What I learned was don’t visit a big, tall d*ck when it’s a hundred degrees out and the sun is beating down on you.  The good thing, however, was there was an air-conditioned visitor’s center where I could pretend to watch a movie of the battle of 1812 and know I wasn’t going to be tested.  Even could shut my eyes when necessary.  And dream of floating on an inflatable swan in the cool water while cannon fire was going on around me.  I may or may not have drifted off a bit.  Which leads me to Spam.  I don’t know why.  And I’m not talking about the stuff that shows up uninvited on your computer, but that cool stuff in a can that no one eats unless you live in Korea or Hawaii, but might  remember from your childhood.  If you were poor.  But now I’ve done some research since I’m into history(ish) and learned way more than is necessary to get through this life.  It is a portmanteau of spiced ham and pork probably.  (Think brunch, linner.  I just wanted to use a big word for a lame subject.).  Did you know, however, that it only has six ingredients and they seal it in that cool can with a key and THEN cook it?  Fascinating stuff!  What a piece of history I discovered!  It fed the soldiers during WWII as if they didn’t already have enough problems. Of course I don’t know much about that war except what they ate so need to visit some kind of erection to peak my ahem interest.  It is no fun being classy(ish).  Maybe history could have been taught in a different way.  I would have had a lot more interest in our founding fathers and Alexander Hamilton if I had known what a great rapper he was…….