5 things I am thankful for today ...

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Grazie, Tape Club, the new album by Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, for being sweet pop that doesn't make me cringe. You haven't left my car's player in two weeks. The lo-fi intimacy of the recordings and the wide gamut of upbeat romps and gentle ballads continue to grow on me more and more with each listen.


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I am also thankful that, despite being thrust unwillingly in the single world again — where the curse of evolutionary biology is alive and kicking me in the ass with its double-triple standards, and pudgy a-holes look me square in the eye with a sense of skinny-hot-nubile-babe-entitlement while reasonably intelligent women compete with one another for said butt-wads' attention — that I still have my happy escapes to TV land, where brave, interesting, complex leading men on cable TV make me swoon without asking me about my younger friends. Yes, Walking Dead's Andrew Lincoln, I'm talking to you. Call me if you want to make a revenge baby. Also, Damian Lewis of Homeland, you're my ginger Steve McQueen ... purr. Last but not least, Aaron Paul of Breaking Bad, I've vowed to avoid younger men, but for you, I'll make an exception.


Thank you, destiny, for leading me to buy a house that's walking distance from Taco Bus. .... Come hither, you foxy little torta!

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There was a spell when fashion designers seemed to be giving shapely women the middle finger with their billowy, frowsy looks that are only wearable by size-0-4 boy-femmes.


Am I crazy for not wanting to to look like a mushroom from Super Mario Land?


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Thank goodness for ModCloth.com, Anthropologie and other outlets for showing us there are still signs of sophisticated life in casual women's fashion. You give us beautiful prints, tailoring, rich colors. I look forward to finding your overpriced clothing on consignment racks and in the form of cheap H&M knock-offs.

I am grateful that my eternally optimistic nature enables me to make lemonade out of stinky pee, for allowing me to revel in the potentially positive outcomes of Jon Corzine providing the Occupy Movement the most apt and cliche of a poster boy/punching bag.

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