Stephanie Dolgoff

In the car–and, sadly, nowhere else–I am Mixmistress Steph, DJ extraordinaire, and as such, I give my husband and kids an unparalleled musical education for which I know they are deeply grateful, even if they don’t show it. The sound track to every car ride that’s long enough for me to find my iPod in the bottom of my gigantic mom purse consists of random hits from the AM radio days of my youth, the few current uberpopular songs (mostly by Lady Gaga) that even I, a harried 43-year-old working mother of twins couldn’t help but absorb, and, of course, ’80s music.

The ’80s were when I was in high school and college, when, like every raw and angsty adolescent, I felt on some level that Simon LeBon and Natalie Merchant and even Ozzy Osbourne were living inside my head, shouting out all the raw and angsty things I wish I could express, and would have if I had talent and a recording contract. READ THE REST AT HUFFINGTONPOST.COM

I remember this scene from Great Expectations, when Pip visits Miss Havisham in her home, and comes upon the wealthy spinster dressed in a rotting, decrepit wedding gown, surrounded by the detritus of her would-be wedding reception. Mice run in and out of holes in the cake, which still sits on the banquet table, set for the big day some decades before. Miss Havisham has lived like that since the moment of her wedding day betrayal–her dickhead of a fiance only loved her for her money–and has nursed a huge, honking hatred for men ever since. She looks like shit, as anyone would if she never changed out of her wedding dress, taken a shower, exfoliated or, well, left her mansion.

I was reminded of that scene this morning (more…)