I refuse to grow up.

Sitting in the car in the parking lot of the local Walgreen's yesterday, a very young new driver roared into the space next to mine. Her music was *blasting* through the open windows. I didn't recognize it, but that's no surprise because I barely recognize any music later than 1978, which was at least 15 years before this little chickie was born.

She gets out of the car and doesn't cut the tunes. It was shrill, frantic and irritating. And did I mention blasting?

So I did what any calm, reasoned 50-something adult would do.

I turned on the stereo and cranked up Led Zep loud enough to wake John Bohnam.

:D

Shook the car. Felt damn good, too.

It was well worth the death glare of doom she shot me as she walked by. Plus, I got to hear the new Shinedown single at the right volume, which makes me squee.

\mm/

and...am I alone in being irritated that MJ went to the great Neverland in the sky on the same day Farrah died? I'm betting that pissed Ryan O'Neal off no end. (Why are his eyes so little? Just asking.)

Speaking of MJ, who thought La Liz and Liza with a Zee would outlive him! That's more of a shock, if you ask me.