Hear that? It's the collective exhale heaved by all NYC parents, announcing the conclusion of our epic 11 day "Spring break."
Why do we wish other parents a "good break" anyway? The sentiment is sweet on the surface, but unless you're among those who can spend that week-plus luxuriating your yoga-toned ass in a resort chaise, casually flipping through the latest issue of OK while your offspring asserts themselves at some distant craft table well out of your earshot, there's no "break" involved whatsoever.
Things I've Decided I Really Don't Give A Flying Fuck About
Obama's Birth Certificate
What an atypical Tea Party-induced plate-spin. To think of the good that could've been done with each second they spent clogging our pars triangulis' with this bullshit. I'll never get those synapses back, assholes. Thanks for wasting so much of my fucking time.
The Royal Wedding
Sorry afficionados of pageantry and fluff, but this event appeals to me just about as much as watching sports.
I'll give the native Brits a pass, because this kind of event has a tendency to spark patriotism, but the vested interest Americans are taking in these nuptials kind of confuses me.
Are you going to get to sport a four-digit dollar dress and lick the frosting off that $80,000 cake? Nah, me neither. So why do we care? Does our interest in this $34M affair infer we're an orphaned nation because we lack royalty?
GULP...are we possessed with Queen-is envy?
This day would not be complete were I to deny you the intrinsic beauty that is...
The Stereotype Song
Duran-Squared Springs Eternal
For those of you who find STILL themselves utterly mesmerized by the boyish, chagrined charm of John Taylor - city miles and slightly receding hairline be damned - I bring you this hilarious parody of your life, courtesy of my pal Jen:
We middle-aged folks are all somewhat guilty of clinging doggedly to the bad old, good old days of rainbow toe socks and Moog synths, aren't we?
Until next week....
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