a. i miss d-x. where else can i whinge about damp tights and rave about croci and know my mom will write me a sweet note about it later? wow that's pathetic.
b. two days in a row now i have been caught in the blistering sheets of icy death known as spring showers. if i am sick for my party so help me god, someone will die. probably me. from mixing pnemonia and gin.
c. my party requires every guest wear a hat, crown or headress of their choosing. today i went shopping for my hat. it's down to a lace-veiled wide brimmed sunhat ala scarlett o'hara (though i won't be adding the killer 50s prom dress i found with it at the vintage place) or red fedora with tipped brim. it is like Else on the runway meets Carmen Sandiego. Sounds like I am leaning towards the fedora. Sexy is always better. And when satin corsets can be a legitimate addition, this party is going to rock.
d. i made homemade chicken pot pie. but made the crust too thin and it sank into the filling. now its more like dumplings. yummy ugly dumplings.
e. i am wearing my sweet 16 pearls. the year of social death. the year of my first kiss and RB (thank god not together) and the infamous Molly. the year between Purv and Olstad. the year of HOBY. the year i realized what i was wearing and cried. the year i left Okemos behind. birthdays are fucking weird man.
f. for once in all my remembered past, i don't want sex for my birthday. well, not first and only sex. is it ironic it is the first birthday i am not a virgin?
2 comments:
Hey
come on now. we all know you've wanted to be sexy carmen sandeigo since you became too cool for the oregon trail in middle school.
and of course you want sex. it's just that sometimes reeses peanut butter cups (and in my case malteasers) can provide an unexpected level of comfort.
i mean, come on. bad sex or brownie batter? that's a no-brainer right there.
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