american as cherry pie
ok, ok. i know it's been a while since i last motivated myself to spend my online hours being productive rather than creating self-aggrandizing photo album after self-aggrandizing photo album on facebook (what can i say? i really am quite possibly the most vain little bitch to roam the 818), but honestly, i think the silence has stemmed from the following interior dialogue:
rachel morgan: holy cow, i'm old now
rachel morgan: ugh, i totally know!
rachel morgan: shit, do you think it's time to like "mature?"
rachel mogan: what does that mean? like shopping at chicos instead of forever 21?
rachel morgan: ew, no way! i'll be rocking the forever 21 slutware till my tits are knocking around my knees!
rachel morgan: double ew! anyway, i was talking about the blog. like, do you think its time to write about like, serious issues?
rachel morgan: like darfur?
rachel morgan: ooooohhh.... that's maybe a little too depressing for a blog. how about "grown up" topics? politics? societal trends and changes?
rachel morgan: does sex count as a societall trend? that's fun to talk about!
rachel morgan: yeah! i think sex does count!
rachel morgan: sweeeeeet! let's do it! get it? do it? ha. ha. get it? like people having sex "do it?"
rachel morgan: you're lame.
rachel morgan: sigh. i know.
anywaaaaay, now that i've sorted out how to begin writing in my SECOND QUARTER CENTURY of life, i'll get to it. this past weekend, momma b and i went cherry picking about an hour north of LA. it's pretty much momma b's favorite past time (she's a simple woman, with simple needs apparently), and she goes every year. this year's trip happened to coincide with the LEONA VALLEY CHERRY PARADE!!! like, OMG!!! i had gone to the LA pride parade the weekend before, and i knew that the cherry parade probably wouldn't have a bondage demonstration during which clothing was cut off with a huge bowie knife, and i knew that there probably wouldn't be a man walking around in a tight black rubbery urinal suit (seriously. urinal man. he actually said, "this way i get to know what it feels like to be a urinal."), but i figured the cherry parade might have some super cool glittery cherry floats or something of that sort. basically, i was hoping for glitter.
anywaaay, as we pulled off the freeway, we were in a tiny crappy, all-american town and followed the road towards beckoning cherry orchards. suddenly, we realized that this country road was the parade route! we joined the DOZENS of cherry enthusiasts who had lined up to watch the parade, and reveled as AT LEAST 7 cars drove by slowly, each toting beauty queens ranging in age from 4-18. "junior miss quartz hill!!! OMG!!! she's stunning!" "wow! miss teen lenore valley!! look at that tiara!!" there was also a baton twirling team, full of really, reeeeeeaally, reeeeeeeeeaaalllly terrible baton girls, a pair of 12 year-old cowgirls, an honorary mayor, boy scouts, and a topless guy sitting on his tractor/mailbox, drinking a beer. the entire situation was really just suuuuch a throwback to traditional 1950s-beaver-cleaver-black-and-white-hell-on-earth-americana, something we don't see a whole lot of in LA.
and, honestly, thank god. call me a bitch, call me narrow-minded, call me what you will, but i am a city slicker, ladies and gents. i like nature from a respectable distance and a 4 star hotel. i like desert sunset enjoyed from an air conditioned bar. i like to see the middle of america (aka anything outside of a major city) from one place and one place only: the inside of a car. and honestly, do you blame me? in cities like LA, we have waaay cooler parades. and that's pretty important in the long run. this blog has no point. sorry about that!