Wednesday, February 2

the oldest gal in the group

For a long time in my '20's I was the youngest girl in the group. I dated slightly older people and most of the arty poetry types I hung with were at least a few years older than me. Now in my early '30's (eek!) I suddenly find myself the oldest broad in the group. Yes, I used the word Broad, as in the harried been-there-done-that archetype. Girl just doesn't cut it anymore.

Never has this been clearer to me than tonight at the BUST party where I found myself surrounded with sweet young things boogying to "Off The Wall" an album which for me harkens back to a time of roller skates and Sergio Valente jeans. For them, it probably was the soundtrack to which they were conceived. At one point I think I even muttered the chilling phrase, "does the music really have to be this loud?"

It's hard enough being sober at an open bar. It's even harder when you feel like you're an old fart who can't wear her platforms for too long without getting shin splints.

On a better note, after a harrowing, expensive cab ride from Port Authority, Tim and I have been safely delivered to my house. He is currently asleep on the couch and I am about to tear into the latest issue of Diva imported from the U.K. especially for me. Angelina Jolie is on the cover. Sweet Dreams!

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