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It’s All Random, Non?

Those of us who take hours to fall asleep because our minds refuse to play sleepy time reel off thoughts, events, things we should have said, all manner of random minutia. In the end, it’s all random, non?

Recent Fare:

Valentine’s Day is fun, if you don’t brood about it. Just the thought of a scantily clad little fat boy flying around shooting arrows hits the funny bone. Not with one of his love/lust arrows but enough to laugh.

Thinking about love leads to badass women in movies and what they’ve done for love. You know, like Angela Bassett setting the car on fire when she finds out about his mistress. Or Glenn Close shrieking, “I won’t be ignored!”

Which led to Amy Dunne in Gone Girl–although she’s scary as shit in the book. Or, our fave, Miranda Priestly. Just once don’t you want to ask someone if they smacked their little head on something?

Did you know Christina Koch, who recently returned from 292 days on the International Space Station took the title from fellow female astronaut Peggy Whitson, who spent 288 days up there. Why both women? Random theory. Women have more patience. Tedium day after day means nothing to us. They could withstand almost a year floating in the abyss because we’re used to doing the stuff nobody wants to do, like the wash or making dinner that isn’t cereal. And they asked Calgon to take them away.

Even more random? There are places, in America, where Krispy Kreme is delivering hot donuts. Your head’s spinning exorcist style isn’t it? If only they added telepathic super powers so I wouldn’t have to dial when my nails are wet.

Spent my birthday day drinking with the fun girls-chicks visiting from the hinterland. It’s easy to forget Midwestern girls have hollow legs and cold weather builds tolerance. Started at noon, arrived home at 9:30 full of champagne, vodka somethings, jello shots and gluten free enchiladas. Woke up wearing one shoe, a cat snuggling with the other.

At one of our stops, the banquette next to us featured a male grouping, younger, older, an assortment. My back to them and, as is my way, I listen in on the convo. As the waitress walks away…

“Oooh Lululemon lookin’ good.”

A different one: “I don’t know. Her face is cute but the way her ass is in those leggins, you can tell she’s jiggly.”

My brain: WTF?

I turn around to give him the death stare and his hand is resting on the banquette. When I see how tiny it is, I draw my own conclusions while I “Pfft” in his direction.

A couple days before, Ivanka Trump seated herself in front of the Taj Mahal on the same bench Princess Diana did thirty years ago, in much the same pose, in a floral dress. How dare she? You, little girl, are no Diana. And besides, why the hell are we paying for her to go to India? Didn’t Daddy buy her a Taj Mahal all her own?

Tell us, Dolls, what random thoughts fill your heads?

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