where have all the cowboys gone?

I love Green Day as much as the next Bay Area person - probably even more - BUT. Album of the Year? Who runs the Grammy's anyway? Who's in charge of this gig? I hate the Grammy's. A lot. More importantly, how did I not know about the Golden Globe nominees? I am so behind on life.

I'm so close to being done. Then I can proceed to go home and wax poetic about my life and what to do with it. Reacquaint myself with old friends and wonder how they've changed, how I've changed. I'm excited to trudge through the airport with the guitar strapped to my back - I'll pretend I'm a traveling musician. If people ask me to play a song, I will, and then I'll hold out my empty Diet Coke cup and ask them for tips. Then I can buy a pack of minty gum that I'll get addicted to. My jaws will get tired and my teeth will wear down. My judgemental orthodontist will shake his head and make fun of the way I pronounce my words again. Then I'll sock him one square in the face and he'll have to get braces. It will be poetic justice but I will have to do a lot of community service and pay a lot of money. During the community service, I will meet a former drug addict and fall in love with him. While we're cleaning the highway, I'll get hit by a big rig and while I'm dying, my former (or not so former) drug addict lover will kneel over me and cry. I will start singing "A Little Fall of Rain" because I always wanted to play Eponine in 'Les Miserables.' I will know, as I lay dying, that the former drug addict is my soulmate because he knows the words too. Unfortunately, he gets hit by an oncoming Ford Mustang driven by some obnoxious kid from my highschool. We both die and it's a real tragedy. They write about our story in the newspapers and a lot of people come to my funeral. Luckily, I can hide in the rafters and look and see who comes. I make sure they play all the songs that I want and make sure they serve really good chocolate cake. They will burn my body on a funeral pyre and then scatter my ashes on a hot air balloon trip around the world.

How did I get so behind on life? I feel like a log thrower, where my feet get WAY ahead of my body, which is straining to carry the tree trunk, and the feet get further and further and FINALLY I might straighten my body but then it's uneven and the tree trunk goes FLYING. It's a mess and I lose. It's the last time they'll ever send me to the world games in log throwing. I try to represent China for the log throwing portion, but they don't care about bein represented. I don't even try to represent Norway because they've got great log throwers. If Ole Gunnar Solskjaer wasn't a fabulous footie player, he'd be a log thrower. No joke.

Oh, so close yet no cigar.