Thursday, June 4, 2009

The "Damn. I'm Almost 32" List

Tomorrow is my 32nd birthday. Though I had originally planned to skip it altogether, I realized that if I did that, I would totally get gypped out of birthday cake, which would royally suck because I LOVE BIRTHDAY CAKE, particularly if it has roses on it. Yes, I admit it, that's the one concession I have to acting like a little kid. I want a birthday cake and it better sure as hell have roses and I had better (even surer than hell) get a gigantic one on my piece because I'm a frosting whore. A FROSTING WHORE, I SAY!

*Deep breath to recompose*


To celebrate, I have compiled a list of things I learned while I was 31, for the sole purpose of educating those of you out there who ARE NOT YET 31 (or who were too stupid to learn these things when you were). That's just the kind of girl I am. (You know, wise and helpful and whatnot.)


*Disclaimer: This is by far not ALL the things I learned at 31. However, I tried to include those that might be especially useful to others.

1. Do not offer to bring beer to the kindergarten cookout. While this seems like a FABULOUS idea to some (like ME), it is apparently not only illegal, but highly frowned upon by stuffy education people (aka principals). Nor is it a good idea to mention to said stuffy education people that you think it is ridiculous to have a cookout at 9:30 in the morning with a bunch of bratty rugrats running around in the Virginia humidity and NOT have a keg handy, and that anybody who thinks differently is a fool. (I suspect that I am no longer welcome at the aforementioned cookout.)

2. If you skip Bible Study in order to complete a freelance writing assignment for an erotica website, keep it to yourself because people WILL damn you to hell (like I don't already know that's where I'm headed--you really don't have to rub it in, people).

3. What's the best way to remove gum, crayon, and Coconut dum-dum lollipops from the carpet? It's called VODKA. You drink it, and then you don't care quite so much that seven different carpet cleaners did nothing to dent the mess on the rug and that the dog won't quit licking the spot where the lollipop is ground in and is probably going to get doggie cancer from the cleaning chemicals covering the non-removable spot. Skip it all and just go for the vodka first thing.

4. There is nothing wrong with drowning out your kids in the car with your iPod. Sure, it can be a safety concern--like when you didn't hear the train coming and the warning arms happened to be broken so you weren't stopped from driving across the tracks. (And you probably shouldn't have been driving anyway because your blood sugar was low-- you know because you checked it WHILE driving.) Sure you nearly killed everybody. But you know what? You would have died happy, with Justin Timberlake bringing Sexy Back, instead of screaming at your children, "NO! NO, we do NOT hold up our middle finger at the lady in the car next to us because....well, yes, Mommy does it sometimes, but it means something bad and....Sutton, STOP HITTING YOUR SISTER WITH THE GARBAGE TRUCK! Belly, put your damn finger DOWN," where your last moments before the train hit were spent frustrated with your children. You know?

5. If you ever run into an Irish wedding party at a bar in NYC, specifically on their last night in town before returning to Dublin, blow off all other plans and spend the night drinking with them. It's well worth all the vomiting you'll do later. Those Irish people KNOW HOW TO PARTY.

6. When you and your husband (or wife) make the list of celebrities that you are allowed to sleep with and receive no marital repercussions, be forewarned: HE IS STILL NOT GOING TO LET YOU SLEEP WITH JOHNNY DEPP IF THE OPPORTUNITY PRESENTS ITSELF. I nearly filed for an annulment when I heard this--I figure I could have pulled a Renee Zellwegger/Kenny Chesney and totally claimed "fraud," because I entered into this union truly BELIEVING that if Johnny ever approached me and said, "Hey, Baby. Let's wrestle," I could be ALL OVER THAT and Blaker would be happy for me later. But NO. HE WOULDN'T. And it took me six whole years to find out. Shit.

7. If your uncle, who you hate and who has always been a total dick to you, tries to play nice at your Dad's memorial service, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO TAKE HIS SHIT. I wish now, instead of being polite, I had kicked him in the berries and screeched, "Take that you motherfucking sack of shit! And here's another one for Dad!" before taking out his solar plexus. Dad probably would have appreciated it from beyond. And frankly, propriety is overrated.

8. If you wander around the neighborhood in your pajamas (sexy or otherwise) and act like it's normal, people WILL TALK ABOUT YOU. They will look at you like you are perfectly sane while you ask them their plans for the weekend or why they are taking a broken drill from the neighbor's trash, then they will tell everybody that you don't know how to dress yourself appropriately. THE HELL I DON'T. AND AT LEAST I DON'T DIG THROUGH THE NEIGHBOR'S TRASH. But at 7am when I've been scraping oatmeal off a 3-year old's penis ("Hey, Mommy! Look where my oatmeal went! I put it in my pants!") and reminding your 5-year old that NO, we CANNOT go commando to school AND I DON'T CARE IF IT FEELS GOOD ON YOUR GIRL PARTS I do not have the TIME to change into my Homeowners Association Regulated attire. DEAL WITH IT.

9. The locker room at the Y is a haven for scary people, and even if you are naked, they are naked, or everybody is naked, they will still talk to you. I once had an 83-year-old woman tell me in detail all about how her new bra made her breasts look like they hadn't looked in forty years AS SHE WAS STANDING THERE TOPLESS. Did I ask? Did I mention that I needed some additional perk to my girls? NO. One minute I'm asking Sutt if he's ready to go get a cheeseburger, and the next minute I'm getting boob tips from a woman with an oxygen tank. No joke.

10. What's the gift that keeps on giving? Obscenities cross-stitched in pastel colors and then put in a pretty frame. I hate to admit that I did not think of this wonder myself, however yesterday I received an envelope in the mail from my brother and his wife. Inside was a lovely silver frame holding a 5x7 sheet of fabric with F U C K cross-stitched in pink, yellow, green and purple, each letter inside a perfect little heart. It looks beautiful on my dresser, and I know that it is absolutely a gift from the heart as it turns that that Shawna has been working on it for over a year (with Zach cheering her on, as he has less-than stellar cross-stitching abilities). Next gift giving holiday, I am SO on this gift idea.

I encourage you to take those gems, and lock them into your memory. You can benefit from my experience, my brilliance and wisdom. Oh, and if I learn anything else exciting before midnight tonight, you can be sure I'll write an addendum.

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