Stretch Out With Your Feelings, Baby

The Real World sucks, I've found. It's nothing but wax build-up and The Man.

And I'm stuck here. I have no choice but to face reality, begin contributing to society, and put my degree in political science to work by marrying Obi-Wan Kenobi.

I bet he has some kickass health insurance, which is the primary quality I seek in a man. Also, when Obi-Wan does get old, I already know what to expect: He's going to turn into Alec Guinness. This is an unmitigated plus because God only knows how any of us are going to geezer out, and you could do much, much worse than a Depends-age Alec Guinness. When Jerry Hall hooked up with Mick Jagger, for instance, all she wound up with, eventually, was an old Mick Jagger, who is looking more and more like Moses these days, assuming Moses spent the entire Nixon administration exceeding the recommended daily allowance of the narcotics food group.

call me Obi-Wan, you're my only hope at: blondechampagne@hotmail.com