Change my pitch up

Change my pitch up: Prodigy, Chemical Brothers, Leftfield, Orbital, and Fat Boy Slim. All that’s a far cry from the country I’ve been listening to. I’ve recently upgraded my laptop to one of those super sexy, sleek, lightweight titanium skinned models. After having lunch with an ex yesterday, I know how my old PowerBook feels. I got a chance to compare myself to her current suitor, and the new guy is nothing short of gorgeous. Beautiful, pretty, even [in a manly way, of course]. I think she a did a real good job of upgrading for a better model. If I wasn’t on familiar turf, it might’ve been a little strange, but on nice afternoon, with the usual afternoon crowd at Guero’s, it was just perfect. But, in keeping with this week’s apparent culinary trend, the lunch special was Barbacoa. There’s something fittingly poetic about going to see my tree hugging, radical feminist, militant vegan Sister after eating nothing but that “Mexican Barbecue” for the last week — for the last three days, anyway. From Guero’s, I wound up at the bookstore, desperately seeking something to read on the airplanes. The Virgo bookstore owner is a kindly soul, and he can usually make a good suggestion. And then, I got called to meet my Pisces friend, just in from the airport and Las Vegas, and we had us some Sushi with an Aquarius wait person. How do you tell someone, from their birthday, that the next few years are just going to be a bit weird?