Though you can still call me Lexi Kahn, I'm pulling a Cougar/Mellencamp move and re-identifying. My name is Michelle. I live in Boston, by way of New York, by way of a tiny town in Connecticut. I live with Joe. We're DINKS (dual income, no kids). It's a miracle I have made it to my thirties. Thirties! I am SO a Gen X'er -- go ahead, ask me about the 80s. I love good books, good movies, divine food, leisurely travel, smart comedy and, especially, music. For 11 years ('97 to '08) I was a regular in the local Boston rock scene using the name Lexi Kahn (Google me!) but quit the whole thing to pursue other interests. What those are...is probably what this diary will be about from 2008 forward.
So keep reading! You never know what'll happen.
I'd rather not be in love with the Heartbreak Kid, but there's nothing I can do.
I'd like to issue a suggestion for good health: let's not eat anything from which we have to peel cellophane, and neon orange foods are right out.
I'd like to spend a week as a six foot tall 110 pound beauty of limitless wealth and intelligence. Just to see what it's like.
I'd then like to spend a day paralyzed and unable to speak, to remind myself to be thankful for what I fuckng have.
I'd like to go back to sixth grade and tell Kennitha Hoffler to fuck off.
I'd get true joy if someone could explain why drivers need to slam on the brakes, sit there, and THEN signal the turn, failing altogether to fathom that it's called a SIGNAL because that's what it's supposed to do: signal me that the car I'm following is going to stop soon and turn.
