Birthday Week - Day Eight (6-18)

Well, finally work decided to throw a little love, adoration and early departure time my way. Rock Star Fran made me cupcakes, Lovey brought in popcorn and Sheena made me brownies. There was a card and my evil boss, but luckily no singing. And because I took off at 1, it was pretty brief. So that was kinda nice. Sweet of them to think of me. Though I really dislike most of my coworkers and the ones I do like were invited to Birthday Week so it did feel a little unnecessary. I’m such a fucking ingrate. Lovey, RSF & Sheena - it was very nice and I loved it.

So, I had planned to spend my free afternoon doing all kinds of things around the apartment and running errands for the big party on Day 9. I did manage to run one errand and cross a couple things off my to-do list, but then I just napped the rest of the damn day. Which proved to be a good thing, but made me feel like such a slacker. Though really, what better way to spend an early day off from work?

I finally dragged myself out of bed in time to get sorta pretty for the night’s events. Friends and I used to go to Rose’s Turn a lot a long while back. Nekkid found it when she was visiting from Arkansas during our 24th birthdays. She’s a day younger than I am and she was in town for both the 19th and the 20th. Since it was her birthday she got to pick what we’d do. And she wanted a piano bar. And she managed to pick a rowdy one in the West Village. Good times. It’s an awesome place and we had a fabulous drunken night. And then friends, family & I went back often and for hours. Mom loves the place and Dad tolerates it when he has to. Poor guy even got dragged there during Pride Week one year. Anyway, I hadn’t been back in a couple of years and figured Birthday Week was a good excuse to go. And the place is as awesome as it ever was.

Muffy and Steph got there earlier than I did and staked out an excellent section even though they’d never been there before. Very smart people. We drank and chatted and then PimpDaddy and his woman, Skipper, showed up to make out behind Ed’s Shirt and drink with us. Then Lovey popped in for a drink and out for dinner and back in for more drinks. And Sheena and her man showed up for a little bit. No making out for them though. Alas.

PimpDaddy and Skipper are lovely and yet evil people. So they told our waitress it was my birthday. And the bar was then forced to sing to me. But then I got a drink on the house. So that was excellent.

And then it was 12:30AM and that complete bastard, Steph, decided to tell me that I was 30. Actually 30. And had been 30 for about half an hour. I almost cried. I figured that I’d have birthday week and be all above the fear of 30 and whatever and then I freaked out. For a little bit. Okay, for the rest of the night I was a bit freaked. Thirty! Ugh. I can’t believe it. I practiced saying I was 30 for a few months prior to this. I thought it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. I was mistaken. Dang. Thirty. At some point our waitress heard my fussing and I got another drink on the house for being 30. Which was awesome and yet horrifying. THIRTY!!!!! It seems so old. I used to say that I’d sleep when I was 30. That apparently was not true, but it seemed once upon a time that 30 would be when the fun was over.

Anyway, eventually everyone abandoned my spazzing old ass except Muffy and Steph. And so the three of us left the bar to get ice cream. Having Mr. Softee trucks driving around the streets of New York all day and parking near bars at night is an excellent thing.

Stop reading, Daddy.

And then I went to a friend’s place to be reassured that I was not a scary ancient hag. On the way I actually got hit on by the cab driver which was, well, kinda reassuring. Being 30 and in danger of being a spinster and all. He wasn’t the hottest guy ever but was kinda cute. From Jersey I think. Currently living in the Bronx. In fact, he offered to pull over the cab and do me right there. God help me, the first thought I had was, “I’ve never done it in a cab.” And then I thought that it might be tacky all things considered and turned him down. Alas. What if that was my only chance to do it in a cab? I did give him my number. I think. There had been a lot of drinks. I know he gave me his. Heh.

Um, anyway. That was Day 8. So far as y’all know.

Kill me

I just found a long gray hair. I am so upset. I have no words.

I have the cats, the Brooklyn garden apartment and now the long gray hair. I'm 30. I am a spinster now.

Please don't expect to see me again. I'm only going to leave the apartment for work and otherwise will be staying home with my cats and garden from here on out.

I hate being old. Dammit.

Happy 4th!

I totally forgot to put the flamingo's Uncle Sam outfit on before I left for Boston on Friday. Silly me. Dangit.

The weekend in Boston was good, but exhausting. Between Birthday Week, Dad's visit, LA and Boston I'm exhausted, sore and never ever want to see my suitcase again. And I think my kitties are starting to doubt my love for them. Luckily I don't have to travel again for nine whole days. Bliss! I'm trying to keep those nine days very low key. I mean, c'mon. I'm 30 now. I should be spending more time reading in my garden, surrounded by my cats. Right?

More later when I'm not so run down though. Like Tomorrow. I hope.