Today my bff Emily took me shopping and out to lunch for my birthday and when we were sitting with our Diet Cokes catching up on gossip, this bazillion year-old man being pushed in a wheelchair rolled by our table, like VERY close to it because there wasn’t much room, and said, “What would you do if I just grabbed something right off of there??” And then he rolled away cackling, and I saw my future. It was the greatest.
And then when our server dropped off our food he said, “OK here you go, have fun!” which gets weirder and weirder the more I think about it.
Today it’s my 25th birthday (haha, now you pretty much have to “like” this post or it’ll be like you’re specifically NOT wishing me a happy birthday). My birthday is always on Thanksgiving break which means that I rarely get to celebrate it on the actual day, because everyone is always “home” with their “families.” The good part is that I sort of get to stretch my birthday out over a week and a half, that way.
So today I’m not going to do much of anything, which will be great. I’ll probably get some delicious coffee and write for a while (while also checking Facebook because, isn’t always so weird to watch who writes on your wall for your birthday and who doesn’t? It’s like a sociology experiment.), and then my brother and I will see The Muppets and maybe go to The Source, which is actually the nerdiest store of all time and is where we used to go to buy things like 20-sided dice for Dungeons & Dragons or Magic cards. I haven’t been there in over ten years. I will probably accidentally come home with a bunch of dice just because they have such pretty colors. You know. Good 25 year-old things to do.
I feel a little old. 24 was good - I like even years better than odd, I’ve decided. I called myself 24 before I even turned it. 25 sounds more like I should have a 401K or something. But I guess I also feel good and wise and nostalgic. The one thing that’s nice about getting older is talking about things that happened to you a few years ago and saying, “So this was when I was twenty,” or whatever age. I don’t know why but I really like that. Ex: “Let me tell you about the time I made out with a Republican who looked a little like Bradley Cooper, only I didn’t know that because Bradley Cooper wasn’t even around yet, really. This was when I was twenty.”
Last night I went downstairs to my friends’ apartment allegedly to study but actually to read InStyle and talk about things like whether or not we “get” Eva Mendes and how pretty Scarlett Johansson is but that we hate her and that Cate Blanchett is literally flawless and nobody could ever be better. These friends are 30 and 28, and the 30 year-old is already married, but we looked up engagement rings online anyway and argued about which cuts are and are not acceptable. (JK - anything is acceptable. Even a ring-shaped piece of limestone or granite.) And then I showed them my old dream wedding dress, which is Kevin Costner’s wife’s wedding dress that I saw in InStyle in 2004 and tore out and taped to the inside of my closet, which I say is acceptable because I was 17 then.
My dream wedding dress is different now (um, a little smaller, not strapless) but I still have the picture because, look how pretty. I mean, roses made of wedding dress.
Anyway, then Rylee came downstairs crying because she had a fight with her boyfriend and she was worrying and I said “don’t be worried, he is so much better than all your other boyfriends,” because he is, he’s really great. And then we all listed all the worst boys we’ve ever liked (see: several potential gay guys, man who only wore camouflage, Russian philosopher named Maxime, man who wore a bathrobe as a winter coat (!!!)) and laughed a lot until Rylee stopped crying and that is why I love girlfriends.
Last night I dreamed that my dream-boyfriend and I got in trouble for climbing into a shark tank at the zoo (well, HE climbed in, but I was like, “Boyfriend!! UGH why are you always doing these things, haha, you are so cute.”) when the zoo was closed. (He made up for it by making out with me, but it was dream making out, which often has WAY TOO MUCH TONGUE.) The next day at my job at the wildlife preservation, I negotiated a $100,000 donation from a nearby arboretum, and then I ran away from some cougars. And then in my human rights class, I walked out because the professor said that if I didn’t donate 200 pieces of old clothing to Goodwill, I was officially supporting the terrorists. I was like, “I will not STAND for this!” and everyone looked at me, admiringly.
Earlier today I wrote a small post about how I was grumpy because it’s Friday and on Friday mornings I usually write and today I didn’t because I had to see the doctor who wouldn’t give me antibiotics because I haven’t had my sinus infection long enough, and then I deleted it right away because it was complainy. Also it was dumb because, while I might feel a little sick and crabby I am also really HAPPY right now, so much so that today I saw just a drawing of a Christmas tree on a coffee shop chalkboard and squealed. Just a drawing.
I really really REALLY love Christmas. My mom told me that when I was a baby I used to literally scream every time I saw Christmas lights. Sometimes I do this still.
Here is everything else I love right now:
- my little brothers, who are somehow very big now, and who understand me and text me when new amazing-looking embarrassing nerdy RPG games come out (ahhhh Skyrim ahhhh) and tell me about their girl problems.
- my parents, who let me come home for free laundry services whenever I want.
- my best friend Rylee, who texted me to tell me she’s “building” my birthday present and so I’m not allowed in her room tonight.
- my best friend Emily, who is brave.
- writing about text messages.
- snow. where are you? this is supposed to be Minnesota.
- the ladybugs hanging out in the lamp above my kitchen table. hi, guys. let me know if you need help getting out of there.
L. Lin Wood, the lawyer hired by the Republican presidential candidate Herman Cain to fend off sexual harassment accusations, has warned that any other women who might be considering coming forward with similar allegations “should think twice.”
Everything this morning is making me sick.
I posted earlier about Herman Cain’s calling Rep. Pelosi “Princess Nancy” and how fucking disgusting that is, especially given his record of treatment of women. But the other thing that happened in that debate that I didn’t talk about was the fact that the crowd literally booed the moderator for ASKING Cain about the sexual harassment allegations. Like it wasn’t even an acceptable thing to bring up. Like it doesn’t matter if our potential PRESIDENT has a record of misogyny. Like that’s a “personal” matter, because it’s just about women.
And now this? Threats to keep quiet? What the FUCK?
Also last night, a bunch of kids took to the streets in protest of the fact that their “beloved” football coach was fired for his complicity in allowing child rape to take place on Penn State’s campus. What is wrong with them? What’s wrong with everybody?
Goodbye. I’ll be spending the rest of the day under my bed reading feminist nonfiction to myself in whispers.
Relatively-speaking, that is. Or not, I don’t know, it gave me butterflies, and that’s not easy to do. Ahahaha, except, well, for literally any commercial about a family, or a soldier, or an animal. Or anything on a screen where any two people look at each other fondly. But STILL.
K:Okay, I got to the part in Commencement where everybody hates each other at Sally's wedding, and I just...ugh.
K:I don't ever want to not be friends with you.
R:THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN.
K:Okay but just promise me that even when you get married and have kids and even if I move to New York or whatever and never have a family and only have twenty pets and plants that I talk to, we'll always be best friends.
R:Obviously. It is too late really to make any other best friends anyway. I mean, it takes so long to get to the point where I can just talk about poop, I don't want to have to wait for that again.