When I'm an old lady…

…I’ll always keep my hair in curlers even though I’ve never needed any in the first place. I’ll be three tons, fourteen ounces, and I’ll smoke like a chimney. And not just that tobacco junk. I’ll wear mumus covered in paint and I’ll pretend that the lines between my canvas and the walls are blurry so that I blend right into a whirlwind of paint.

But when I’m a really really old lady…

I’ll be so pathetic and yet so high profile that the community will send a poor, unsuspecting teenager in to keep me company. He probably got in trouble for lighting some shit on fire on the first day of high school and got all the administrative staff worried. So they’ll send him to me in hopes that I’ll be able to straighten him out the way elderly people do. And I’ll pounce on him, as desperate as I am for company. But I won’t force him to look at photo alblums. No, not photo alblums in this day in age. He will get to go through my Gmail Inbox with me, reminiscing about past email conversations and fan mail. He’ll learn so much about the origins of spam mail, and, most specifically, about my astrological destiny over the years according to astrology.com–which surely will be a leading Internet giant by then.

Yes, we’ll go over each and every day’s daily horoscope. I’ll tell stories about how apt certain days were to my life, and how off others were. “Sonny, here they say that on July 8th, 2005, I’m to meet my true love. But somehow I missed that bus…but here, on August 25th, 2005, it was totally true that there were ominous rumblings coming from my coworkers. And if only I’d listened to my wise daily horoscope!! For the revolution did rise up. And it bit me in the ass.”

Yes, those will be the days!

Speak up peeps.

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