Three-Oh, D'oh!

April 26, 2006 - 8:59 p.m.

Yeah kids, I turned thirty and I am in complete denial about it. Where did all these gifts come from? Why are there balloons everywhere? I have no idea. Must have been for Easter. Or You’re Just So Goodlooking Day, which is like every day. Oh wait, it was EARTHDAY, yes, that’s the ticket!

I had my Earthday party at Kitsch’n in River North, which is next door to The Motel Bar, which is next door to Japonais. I thought we could work our way up the economic ladder as the night progressed. Japonais is a super-trendy and hoochie-coo sushi bar with waterfalls and cabanas and such and them girls with straightened hair and tube tops were quite pleased but I thought it was a very weak interpretation of the Delano Hotel in Miami. And I don’t know nuthin about nuthin.

But we had dinner at Kitsch’n, not because I particularly like the place, but because I wanted my niece there, who is 15, so we obviously couldn’t go to a bar. Kitsch’n’s food pretty much sucks but it has a good atmosphere. I received size 13 grandma panties from my brother, a charm bracelet that says “FOOL!” from my niece, and jigsaw puzzle of the Male Anatomy Including Anus and Perineum from Blake and Elizabeth (always the charmers). I would also like to thank Eric for the wine glasses and decanter, and Christina for the vulture balloon and rose, and Percival for the Christmas card. And my mama and my seestor too. I got a lot of stuff for *ahem* Earthday, too much to list really, more than I deserved too, and it’s not like I don’t microwave Styrofoam on occasion, really now.

I got this adorable wooden purse from Ginger in Phoenix, who was not at the party, but whose gift-purse was more popular than me and my boobs.

This is me wearing the coolest “30” t-shirt, on loan from Ginger, who wore it at her own 30th.

Oh, and Belle got me this REAL. COACH. PURSE, like wrapped in a pink ribbon and Coach box from the store, the real deal, none-a that fake shit. It has a Bee keychain, just for Mee. I hope his super-cute girlfriend with the luscious breasts does not hate on me.

And I got this whole box of stuff, many-many gifts from KC, fancy shit, beauty products from Nars, Kiehl’s, Erno Laszlo, you heard of ‘em? Not me said the flea. Gourmet chocolate, Madonna, books, squirrel shit. Come to find out later, every last ONE of ‘em is a REGIFT, not a penny spent beyond the shipping, but I don’t care. My favorite part is the card, with my head, Photoshopped to look like Rocky Dennis of Mask. “Sometimes the most unlikely people, become heroes.” If by “unlikely” you mean uglier than a cat’s asshole. If by “hero” you mean dying a miserable lonely death while the Hell’s Angels and your crotchless mother look on. On cocaine.

Then of course comes the pilot’s gift. He got me (us) a tandem bicycle. You know, a TWO PERSON bike? Like one in the front and one right behind as in tandem?? I’ve come across too many people who don’t know what the word or the object “tandem” is. LEARN PEOPLE, geez! Pick up a book every once in awhile!

Yeah – a Vintage Schwinn Twinn with a basket and a horn and custom license plates that say “Shawna” and “Fly Boy”. Very cute. We always wanted a vintage tandem and would admire people on the street that have ‘em. Now we take it out and get looks from everyone. You would be surprised how much fun it is to ride a bike with another person. Especially if you do like the pilot and ride on the back with your feet up, staring at birds in the sky while the Captain on the front (me) does all the peddlin’. And he, on the back, is called the “Stoker”, or in our case the “STROKER”. Since he doesn’t need to steer or hold onto the handlebars for any reason, this leaves his hands free to roam all over my ace.

This is me the morning after the party, so hungover with fuck hair and no makeup. We wanted to go out to breakfast and I had no clothes to change into so I had to ride that bike with high heels and a skirt with gusty winds and 40 degrees. Don’t let that sunshine and tulips fool you, five minutes later it was like COLD.

Extreme close-up.

Ugh so we went out for breakfast and I wanted to die from the cold and alcohol poisoning and diarrhea brewing in my bowels, and didn’t even realize that I sat down next to Leanne, my old roommate whose lip balm was violated by Belle’s dirty dick. Ugh skank, looking like a Meth Head, acne drug-addict skin, Little Orphan Trannie talking about how she gets drunk all the time doesn't have a car and needs a dentist and shit. SAME OL’ SHIT TEN YEARS LATER! NICE LIFE! She pretended not to see me, ME, The Debutant The Morning After With High Heels and Cubic Zirconia Earrings. I think she's afraid of me cuz I threatened to take her life from her.

Every time I see her she looks like a homeless drug addict on a bender, no exaggeration. Hair stickin straight up like corn stalks on a scarecrow. Dry, brittle, faded, no makeup. Frumpy, huge, skater-raver (get over it) clothes, hoody and pipe jeans. God talk about TIME STANDING STILL. Dear 1995, please take Leanne home with you cuz this girl can NOT live without you. SKEE-VOSA, a’ight.

It was a good birthday, doe, the big THREE-OH, and like my invitation said:

The only thing missing was you, and YOU, darling. There’s still time to send a gift.

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