Every generation thinks it, and it alone, invented sex. The vocabulary changes, thus we get "twerking," which is simply a new label for the same old gyration. Everything old is new again. Only now we get to hear about it the nanosecond it spews forth from someone's lips with videos to boot. Why am I bringing this up now, when the word "twerking" is already weeks old?
Because I'm grumpy, that's why. Reasons I'm grumpy:
1. Lower back pain returned yesterday with a vengeance. I thought I was cured with a capital C. But NOOOOOOOO. The universe is clucking its tongue.
2. I wanted a soft ice cream cone dipped in that chocolate that is all waxy and phony. We can't find an Arctic Circle anywhere. "I know I've seen one somewhere around here," I say to Tom. We don't have cell phones to look it up, so we drive aimlessly, until we find an A&W. They have soft ice cream, but they don't make dipped cones. We order a hot fudge sundae.
Pitiful. Almost no chocolate on the ice cream and it all tastes chemical. And there wasn't enough of it.
3. We go to the South Jordan Library and I pick up a couple of books and two movies, one is Richard III and the other one is Camille with Colin Firth. I watched the latter. Absolute twash. Inane. Lame. The music was an insipid waltz with whiny violins repeating the same ghastly tune. A movie so bad, Colin Firth couldn't save it.
4. Diarreah. It's like I live in a third world country. What is my problem?
5. There is no 5. Maybe there is for Tom, who can't find the plunger.
You fill in the gaps.