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Summer is show time! And this weekend, we got to catch G. Love and Jack Johnson in West Palm Beach.

My drive to work is 20-ish minutes.  I don’t hate it, but I don’t love it.  I actually like driving.  And driving by myself gets extra points, because  I can roll down the windows (even though it’s 85 degrees out with 85% humidity), turn the volume way up (my hearing goes down the tube a little more everyday), and listen to any damn song I want.  Sometimes I’ll listen to the same song on repeat, until I have that entire chorus memorized.  Sometimes I actually take my hands off the steering wheel (only at red lights, of course!) to clap along to my live in concert Madonna CD, as if I were standing in the stadium.  I also like to transport myself back to 1998 and thrown on a classic Oakenfold track.  Sometimes I think I could be on broadway as I sing entire songs from the Rent or Evita soundtrack.

Whatev.

But other times, I just like to listen to talk radio.  I heart NPR.  And in the morning, sometimes I’m lucky to catch a clip from the StoryCorps segment.  If you haven’t heard it, check it out.  The stories I’ve heard have made me laugh out loud and brought me close to tears.  Behold, the power of a good ol’ story or Q-and-A session.  It’s not always about asking the right questions, rather it’s about listening and getting an awesome answer.  Maybe it’s not the answer you were looking for, but …

So it is, 30 days of being 30 years old. So far, I’m still standing. My hair does look a little shabby, but that’s probably a result of me not brushing it this morning and not because of me aging. Who knows, though. Maybe I’m not brushing it because I’m aging. Oh, the conundrums!!

In any event, crazy hair or no hair, I’m still 30. I’m still OK with it. I admit, I don’t like to yell out my age to strangers. But, my patellas haven’t popped; I have all my teeth (thanks, Dr. Schlapkohl!); I can manage to get through an hour-long spin class and walk out; my driving isn’t horrible (well, any more horrible than usual); and I’m not totally out of the loop on pop culture. Yes, I know who Justin Bieber is and I kind of like Lady Gaga. 😦 To ensure balance, I also know that Josh Ritter, Matt PondPA and The New Pornographers are coming out with new albums. 🙂 (Last week I listened to the entire Josh Ritter album on NPR … and, uh, I. Can’t. Wait.)

And, to celebrate this decade of my life, I think I’m going to jump out of a plane tomorrow.

Hopefully, I’ll live to tell you about it 😉

I love fads.  They’re fad-ulous.  Fad-tastic.  They’re funny, and eventually classic (but still a little funny).

The Hustle.  Friendship bracelets.  TV dinners.  Break dancing.  And, the fashion fads – beehive hair, feathered bangs, denim jackets, platform shoes … the rebels, the grunge, emo kids.  Alas, now it’s the hipsters taking their place (back) in history.

You know, the one that’s too-cool-for-school, wearing 80s sunglasses and sporting a probably-paid-for-but-don’t-want-you-to-think-it’s-paid-for haircut.  Oh yeah, and don’t forget the PBR in hand and what-the-f*@k-right?-but-I-kind-of-pull-it-off fashion statement.  Yeah, that person.  There’s nothing more I can say about this, eh, style that hasn’t already been said.  I just wanted a reason to post hipster-related stuff that made me laugh.  Because I can’t sleep right now …

Q: How many hipsters does it take to flush a toilet?

A: You can’t touch that toilet – it’s art.

Q: How many hipsters does it take to change a light bulb?

A: It’s such a cool number, you’ve probably never heard of it.

Have you hugged a hipster today??

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