Wednesday, August 10, 2011


Worthless.  That is what I've been all damn summer long.   Make no mistake, it's been a mildly interesting couple of months.  Let's see.  I went to Savannah and swam in the ocean, got a new best friend (in the form of a dog), tried to change my hair color, attempted to stop obsessing over my fitness level and ate whatever I wanted for weeks on end, got another couple of tattoos, let go of some bullshit friendships and made headway on some new ones.

Now to the things I did not accomplish.  I did not mark anything off of my 'project' list and virtually quit going to the gym.  I was totally unproductive in terms of home upkeep, no deep cleaning or organizing was accomplished,  I did not even think of writing for this blog on a regular basis like I vowed to.  Really, it just goes to show that when you remove my schedule and structure from my life, I fall apart completely.   Only now that I'm neck deep in work have I been inspired to get back on the blogging saddle.   It's with a certain relief that I anticipate officially starting back to work on Monday, though I've been working from home for a couple of weeks now.

Tomorrow is my birthday.  I know that it's supposed to be my all time favorite holiday, but I've got all sorts of childhood crap attached to it, so it's basically been ruined for me.  Not ruined in the sense of 'Boo hoo, I'm a whiny baby who needs a therapist to help me deal with my shitty younger years'… that's just not me and I'm a pretty happy and well adjusted gal considering I was raised in a religious cult.   I'm not even mad or really bitter about it anymore, but birthdays are still sort of warped in my brain.

Fact:  I have never had a birthday party.  I grew up as a Jehovah's Witness….. like totally oddball little me needed yet another reason to stick out like a sore thumb amongst my peers.  Month after month, I would watch invitations handed out to princess parties and would wish mightily that I got gifts and was the center of attention on a special day, too. (as an aside, I also think that this whole thing stemmed my total obsession with birthday cake, which is the best food item in the world)  I believed with every fiber of my being that I'd only have the splashiest of parties as an adult… full of balloons, lavish presents all showered on me and there I would be, with some sparkly crown or something, waving at all my guests and pretending to be surprised that I was so adored by the masses.   It sort of never turned out that way.

First of all, I was poor once on my own.  My friends were equally poor.  One year, a boyfriend actually bought me a bottle of Mad Dog and put it in an empty Neiman Marcus box and wrapped that shit up.  It was supposed to be a funny joke, but when I opened that damn box, all I could envision doing was smashing that bottle on the table and slitting his stupid throat.  He didn't last long after that, how could he?  Even super poor me had standards.

As I grew up and became less poor, it dawned on me that birthdays were sort of par for the course for everyone around me (after all, we'd all had many of them by that time and for most the novelty had worn off), so no one went too far out of their way to make mine super special.   Even with the attempts that were made, I would find myself somehow unhappy.  I couldn't ever figure out why, until I realized that in the back of my head I was comparing it to my little girl fantasies.. and there I was, not a damn tiara in sight.   Gosh, when I write it down, it does seem so stupid, but I'm nothing if not honest about this stuff.  I don't mind putting it out there.

Anyway, it's too late now.  I'm completely uncomfortable at this stage of my life being the center of attention and would rather crawl in a hole than be the 'birthday girl'.   I'd probably scream, "YOU KNOW I HATE SURPRISES" and go tearing ass out of the room if someone were to make the horrible mistake of trying to do something like that nowadays.   I'm actually more comfortable just pretending it's another day… well, except for the gift thing. I so shamelessly love to get presents, it's almost funny.    Especially good ones from people that know what makes me tick.  (Ever realize how much you can tell about a person by the gift they deem appropriate to give you?  Yep, me too.  But that's a subject for another day.)

Seems like I'm the hardest person in the world to shop for, if you ask folks around me, though I don't see how that's actually the case.  So I've decided to make life easy for everyone.  I requested a gun and that's what I'm getting.   There.  The perfect gift for an outlaw in life.  I'm so tickled by the idea that I'm probably not even going to have another birthday meltdown like I did last year.  I've decided to put that shit on hold until I actually start looking my age.  Then all systems can be a go.

Soon I'll have a CC permit.  That thought should lull all of you right to sleep tonight.  (insert evil grin right about here)   What more could I ask for?   Happy Birthday to me. Now someone pass me some cake.


  1. I have a million things to say. All way too personal to post here.So I'll just say: good blog.

    Every blog you post is like a gift. A little piece of insight into you that builds the already overwhelming love and adoration I feel toward you. Thank you for sharing. Even when it's not pleasant.

    Happy birthday, T.

  2. Thanks, my dear. You know I love you so much…. the only girl for me ever. xoxo

  3. If I lived close enough to do so I would make you one of my extra chocolatey chocolate cakes with one big candle. (That way age is irrelevant).

    Has to suck big hairy bollocks not having birthdays as a kid, but I guess if you don't have them you don't get older.

    Happy Birthday anyway xxx
    And welcome back to the blogosphere :)

  4. I know what it's like to have a project list that doesn't have much crossed off. I'm starting to think that most successful people have their ratio of total projects to completed/successful projects at about 50:1.

    As far as birthday celebrations go, I managed to have a few successful ones until I was 28, which was a disaster because almost nobody showed up. Since then I've learned to plan my birthdays better, with or without invites. I think the best birthday I ever had was going ALONE to Las Vegas for my 30th. I've also gotten fed up with people who expect me to go out and celebrate their birthday when they won't do the same for me.

  5. Bill M., you bring up a good point. Because I have always sort of romanticized birthdays, I always tended to take great care in making it special for other people… only to be totally forgotten. It doesn't take more than one or two times of that happening for me to quickly cease the practice.