Not one ounce of cool left in me

So there I was: driving down the road in my mini-van, two car seats and a double stroller in the back. A song came on the radio that I thought was pretty good. I was jamming along, thinking, “Hmm. I wonder who this is. It kind of sounds like Ashlee Simpson. I’m not a big Ashlee Simpson fan, but I’m kind of digging this.”

Then the title and artist of the song flashed across my radio screen, and I cringed. It wasn’t Ashlee Simpson. It was far worse. It was… Miley Cyrus. As in “Hannah Montana” Miley Cyrus. As in daughter of “Achy Breaky Heart”‘s Billy Ray Cyrus. (Cringe)

I called my best friend Charlie to admit this horror of horrors. In anguish, I reluctantly confessed to him that I was not the same woman and “cool chick” he had met more than ten years ago. This apparently was not a news flash to him, because he laughed his *ss off. He joked, “No more Dead shows or Dave Matthews concerts for you, huh?” Ouch. He didn’t even know how close to home this hit. Now I had to admit to him that I had heard on the radio earlier in the day that the Dave Matthews Band is coming to Indy in July. Instead of thinking, “Awesome. I wonder when tickets go on sale!” the first thing that popped in my head was, “Ugh. July. It will be really hot. I think I’ll skip that one.”

What the hell happened to me!?


3 thoughts on “Not one ounce of cool left in me

  1. That is funny. WELCOME TO MOTHER HOOD. Ha Ha. Wait until the only thing that plays in the car is Radio Disney.


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