I guess I'm one step closer to being old and crochety (as opposed to mom, who is fabulous) because today as I was walking behind three hooligans, one of them casually tossed an empty water bottle into an alley, prompting me to call out "Nice! Save the planet! Nice!" And to wave my cane at them. Seriously though, where the hell is Captain Planet when you need him? The juvenile delinquent favoured me with a glare, but kept walking, probably put off by the demonic glint in my bifocals. God I'm getting old.
I also saw a picture on the back of the Red Eye (free newspaper=not as good as the Metro)of a "America's Next Top Model" contestant who probably weighed as much as my arm underneath the caption "Plus-Sized Debate!" The accompanying article said this woman was causing controversy because she was being touted as a "plus sized model" even though she was only a size four or something. I didn't really read the article. I also don't watch "America's Next Top Model" but I do have an opinion, and therefore feel qualified to blog about it. What is the debate? there is no debate. Size 4 (or eight, or ten or 12 or fourteen!) is not a plus size. End of debate. Fin.
Tomorrow I'm going to the planetarium, and I hope they have some sextants on display. I dearly love a good sextant.