Run. Dog. Cat. Cat. Me.

Everything you need to know about running and life and any other random crap I find bouncing through my mind like a ping pong ball. And always be sure your shoes are happy.

Sammy Hagar, Les Baxter, and me.

Well this day totally sucks.

Until today I had no clue who Les Baxter is.  But then some idiot created a Facebook app that figures out the top hit on the day you were born and suddenly this afternoon Les Baxter entered my life.

It couldn’t be AC/DC doing Dirty Deeds Dirt Cheap.

Not Guns ‘N Roses Welcoming us to The Jungle.

Mom couldn’t wait 3 more days and I could have at least had an Elvis song at number one even tho Elvis does nothing for me (and I do realize this is blasphemy in Memphis and I could be hauled over the county line on a rope behind a pickup truck) still, he beats the hell out of Les Baxter on the musical Thrill-O-Meter.

No, not even Elvis.  I get some guy directing an orchestra and a bunch of people whistling in the middle of the stupid song.  The only lyrics in the insipid thing is lalalalala and luhluhluhluh.  Whistling and luhluhluhing.

In one minute your life goes crashing about your head.

All these years There’s Only One Way to Rock defined your life.

But no.  You were born when the best music in the country was a vapid luhluhluh.

I don’t even feel like trying out my walker with the new tennis balls now.

I’m so depressed, I’m not going to bother putting in my dentures.

I don’t care that my best apron is in the laundry and I can’t wear it to Bingo at the community center tonight.

Heck, I might not even go to Bingo.

I may just stay home and watch Lawrence Welk while I drink my prune juice.  Maybe Bobby Burgess and Cissy King will be dancing tonight.  That would be great.  If I turn up the sound enough I should be able to hear the music.

Afterward I’ll crochet some doilies to put on the arms of my sofa.

Later I’ll smooth on some Noxema and get to bed.  By then it will be 7:30, late night but I’m crazy wild that way and it is Friday.

Probably I”ll lull myself to sleep whistling luhluhluhluh.

Here, in case you’re an insomniac you can listen, too:

I’ve gotta go find my Geritol.

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