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The Broadway cast of The Lion King spontaneously regaled a New York subway with “Circle of Life”

Commuters, 1953

Commuters return from downtown Chicago to Park Forest Illinois. As in other suburbs across the country, the population of Park Forest grew more than threefold between 1950 and 1960. Most of its inhabitants were young white families with a husband in a promising corporate job and a wife who stayed home to raise the children.

The Century; a Chronicle of the twentieth century

The boy is feeling much better today than he felt yesterday (thank the goddess it was just a 24-hour thang), so we decided to cap off the week and/or kick off the three-day weekend with an excursion into the city for dinner with lazy uncle and chillaxed Dan.

The boy was pretty stoked about riding the train, even though I was all meh about it. The boy said, “Trains might be boring to grownups but they’re fun for kids because we don’t get to ride them very often!”

It’s cute that kids think boring things are fun, amirite?

If there’s one thing (among many stoopid things) that I don’t miss about the daily schlep into the city, it’s the commute. Actually, the commute usually isn’t so bad, it’s the commuters who are blech. Since I had a bunch of meetings in the city today, I re-entered the rat race.

It’s weird to take the same train and subway routes that I used to take for my old job. The crazy-steep escalator at Grand Central still exudes the same proletariat charm. It’s awight. 

I met with my accountant this morning, and despite my trepidation, it wasn’t too bad. My accountant was all, “Guurrl, your tax situation this year is, like, way better than it was last year!” And I was all, That’s good news! And my accountant was all, “You need to think about saving more for retirement, tho.” And I was all, Yeah, probably.

My accountant also recommended that busy daddy and I get married, like, for realz, cuz there are a bunch of benefits (nearly 1,100 of them!!!) that we’d automatically get if we were legally married, most of them related to avoiding ridiculous estate and inheritance taxes.

There’s a distinct possibility that busy daddy and I are gonna have to make this shizz legal sometime soon, instead of continuing to live our lives of sin. Who wants to be my bridesmaid so that I can live out my dreams of being a raging Bridezilla? Anyone? Bueller?

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