These streets have too many names for me

I was thinking about what I should write about a while ago as my dad and I whizzed down the highway with the hood down in the mini, slightly embarrassed from my dad accidentally blasting "carry on my wayward son" at a stoplight.

Anyway, I feel as if this will be a bit of a stream of consciousness blog. To be quite honest, I have never understood nor enjoyed stream of consciousness writing. A writer is supposed to put effort into their words. If I wanted to hear some jackass mumbling to themselves, I wouldn't need to leave my own brain, thanks very much.

Anyway, it was a touch chilly out for riding "topless" but I didn't say anything because a.) we have heated seats which feel splendid on the bum and b.) it kind of felt nice. It has been forever since cold felt nice. I needed to soak it in. I lost my hair tie so by the time we reached the garage I looked a bit like Diana Ross borrowing some of Whitney's crack (which is whack, and cheap).

I read "Are you there Vodka, it's me Chelsea" today and I must say I am thoroughly impressed. I have forever loved Chelsea Handler but I had not expected her to be the terrific writer she is. I wish I could write humorously like she does or like writers in the Onion do.

I also believe I may have a flaming crush on Peter from the chronicles of Narnia but I think I knew that before. Leo still wins.