Have I Mentioned I Am Officially Old?

I mentioned a few years back that I was getting too old for MTV when everything except for Laguna Beach seemed out of reach for me. Flash forward three years and considering I’ve never seen a complete episode of The Hills, the nail is in the coffin. I honestly don’t know the last time I’ve even turned that channel on. I don’t know where the new installment of the Real World is filming and I keep seeing these douchebags named Spencer and Heidi on various red carpets, but don’t know why. Getting out of touch is a slippery, slippery slope. Meanwhile, I’ve been planning a Babymoon for The Hubby and me. He wanted to go somewhere laid back, like the Caribbean. Food-born illnesses and hurricane season? Ich don’t think so. I wanted one last grasp at my youth. I want to go to Los Angeles before I have a kid in tow. Now I know I can’t go clubbing, lest I look like Kathryn Heigl in Knocked Up (“that’s not even good parenting”), but I figured I could get tickets to a few shows, eat in a Mike Boogie restaurant, and shop until I drop (which won’t take long). So, I registered for Jimmy Kimmel tickets and came across another opportunity – VMA seat filler. Ten years ago, this would have been a dream come true. Hell, twenty years ago, I would stay up late if my mom let me and would be exhausted for school the next day (why is it always the Sunday after school starts?). Today, I clicked on by. First, I’m busy on Sunday. I have some lovely historic homes in Pasadena to tour. Second, I have to pee every ten minutes and the logistics just weren’t working for me. Third, you have to give your stats to be cast. Yeah, no one knows my weight except me and my doc (I’m huge) and if I typed that in, they would assume there was an errant extra digit at the beginning of the number. No one could possibly be that short yet weigh as much as the defensive line of the Patriots! Lastly, unless we were filling Jay-Z and Beyonce’s seats, The Hubby and I wouldn’t be seated together. What’s the point of going to the VMAs if I can’t lean over and make catty comments about Britney’s weave (especially if I’m seated next to Britney)? So, I will cross my fingers I get love from Jimmy Kimmel. Otherwise, I’m on the hunt for the best cupcake in West Hollywood. And to bed by 10pm, thank you.