I'd hate to tell the hipsters on the lower east side and in the East and West Villages, but I've always thought Austin was much hipper than New York. It's because the people in Austin are more relaxed about everything in the world you can possibly imagine. And while that may have to do with smoking more marijuana, I don't think that's the only explanation.
Despite the fact that I don't really smoke marijuana all that much, I had a couple of hits before I left home to fortify myself for the subway. I easily found my way to The Slipper Lounge and was looking around while I was getting a drink at the bar when it occurred to me that this year could be my last in New York City and I should definitely make the most of it. Back at our table, I had a hot flash. Which brings me to the term, "Menopausal Stoner."
Before I decided to call myself/the blog Menopausal Stoners, I toyed with the title Post-Feminist Pothead Floosy. Even though it's a mouth full, I liked it until I saw a bumper sticker:
Damn right. No post-feminists here. However, I'm still not so sure Menopausal Stoner accurately describes me personally - although it's a good title for the blog since I have complete confidence that folks stumble over here on account of the name.
I'd say I was a peri-menopausal pot head floosy except I'm not exactly a pot head. I do like to get high every now and then, but I'm no more a pot head than someone who has a glass of wine with dinner occasionally is a lush. I will confess that I like to wake and bake. Sadly, ever since Velvet quit spending weekend nights with Buzz Kill, I can't get up, get high and spend half the morning trying to solve the puzzle of the Tupperware Drawer. I know all that shit fits in there.
While I have been very reluctant to date ever since I broke up with That Narcissist, there's no denying I'm a floosy. And I do think it's important to stand up and proudly declare I smoke weed because:
- Weed is not just for "Hippies." Grown Ups with mortgages, jobs and kids in college smoke weed too.
- Laws about weed should be the same as laws about liquor.
- If the government says you're old enough to vote and get your ass shot at in some damn war (that's the Selective Service), then you're old enough to drink a beer.
But I digress - the issue is my last year in New York City and how I want to spend it. Readings in the East Village are good. In fact, I'm going to my favorite humor series tonight. Drunken!Careening! Writers! at KGB Bar on E. 4th Street. Third Thursdays.
I'm single, relatively hot, relatively privileged as long as my alimony holds out, fairly young (AARP asserts that 50 is the new 30, and I suppose it is since we're all going to have to work until we're 85), with no kids living at home. And home is a nice apartment with a parking spot and a terrace that has a side view of Central Park. It's not a bad way to spend your time. It also happens to be a good set up for a sitcom, and if nothing else, I'd like my last year in New York City to be wonderfully entertaining.