December 19, 2008 § Leave a comment
Yesterday was my belated birthday celebration to commemorate my 22nd year of my life long eating contest. My roommates and I decided to pretend that the 15th actually fell on Thursday, conveniently after everyone was done with their finals. And I told God: “You were the one who gave me the 8 AM final in which I had to write ten full pages in less than two hours– keep in mind that I usually write ten pages in ten hours and consider that a speedily feat– and made it rain in a place where The Mamas and The Papas sang it would NEVER rain and on my BIRTHDAY. If you don’t like the fact that I’m changing Thursday from the 18th to the 15th, SUCK IT and FIX THE FACT THAT AMERICA IS IN TWO WARS– only you can fix stupid, but if you don’t want to, at least give Wubbya two brain cells to rub together.”
My birthday night was actually really wonderful. The plan was to go ice skating and then go to dinner. I realized that I couldn’t stand the cold during the day and would freeze later that night if I went ice skating (Okay, before anyone gives me a hard time about the fact that I live in Los Angeles therefore I have no right to complain because the weather must always be a balmy 78 degrees, you must keep in mind that 1) the media LIES and 2) I am 105 lbs with just enough body fat to give me 34A tits and just the little bit of thigh even though I eat as if every meal is my last meal so I should make it count. Listen, if given the chance, I WILL OUT-EAT YOU). I decided that it would be best if we went out to dinner instead. I chose The Cheesecake Factory because the menu is varied enough that there would be something for all the vegetable-only eaters, meat-eaters, picky-eaters, and fuck-the-entree-and-give-me-the-dessert-menu eaters. We went to The Grove, which is an outdoor mall that is very Los Angeles apparently and is so well decorated for Christmas that all I saw were bright yellow Christmas lights and candy canes. My roommate is housesitting for her former professor and is taking care of his gorgeous, very gentle, ten-year old Siberian Huskie-German Shepard mix named Clay. Since Clay has severe separation anxiety– so severe that if he is left alone in the house for even one minute, he will go crazy and rip apart the furniture– she brought him along. She let me walk him around The Grove while she wandered around and bought socks; she’s a sock fanatic, and rightly so– hello? knee-highs? He was the sweetest and easiest dog to walk. And luckily, my super-comfortable peep-toe high heels came in the mail on my birthday so that I could wear them to dinner and walk Clay around The Grove several times without any blisters and other foot agonies associated with new high heels.