all your friends suck; and I hate a lot

I was stopped at a red light yesterday. Staring off into space just wanting to get out of my car, when I couldn’t help but stare at a group of three girls walking down the street. They were just what you’d picture if I described three girls in their mid-20’s, wearing Summer dresses, shorts and tank tops. Taking it easy, strolling down the street.

I watched them for an entire block until the light turned green.

I drove off with only one thought in my head. That one thought? People sure are jerks.

For that entire block, I watched the three girls walk side by side, then one after another while passing other pedestrians. One of the girls, the one that happened to walk first in line, had her skirt stuck on her bag and pulled up exposing her underwear. And in turn the bottom of her butt cheek. The tag of her shirt was hanging out, which wouldn’t have been a big thing; except for the fact it was one of those 4” long tags just flapping in the breeze.

 I know I have some shitty friends, but if one of them let my butt hang out for over a block, I’d probably slap them.

Maybe it’s the heat, no; it’s definitely the heat. Making my patience and tolerance barely there, and my irritability extra high.

[source]

Especially..

:: Working outside on these excruciatingly hot and muggy days with no AC in my car.

:: Coming home to my house being destroyed by a dog that’s staying overnight. She shredded two of my candles. Shred-ed.
:: Slow drivers, not using a turn signal, bicyclists, tailgaters, general shitty drivers.
:: People who can’t manage to pay their invoices even remotely on time. And those that "forget" to leave payment before long trips.
:: Busybodies.
:: When others make assumptions that you’ll do something for them.
:: Flip flops being worn in public. Socks and sandals..
:: Repeating myself.
:: Close walkers and people who sit to close to you in a movie theater. People who crowd you when you’re shopping.

:: When check out clerks carry on a personal conversation the entire time you’re getting rung out.

:: Shopping at Whole Foods. Rude ass people, it’s like post-apocalyptic hell in there.

:: Never getting a day off.
:: The awkward length my hair is and how it turns into a fluffy cotton ball the second I step outside in this soupy weather.
:: Having to wear shorts to stay cool. I hate shorts.
:: When my coffee gets cold.

And bam. I’m still shitty at updating this thing. Does anyone have big 4^th of July plans? I’ll be sitting poolside drinking most of the day. Oh yes.

xo

inhaling is the easy part exhaling is where it gets hard

I'll talk about the sad stuff some other time. 

 

I shaved my legs for my birthday. That was a pretty big step for me. 

For the first time in years I had a surprisingly good birthday. My best friend came in from NYC and my other bestie was up from Florida.

I got my hair done. We went out to eat. 

I made Kh and my bestie get Friendly's sundaes with me. 

 

We played Cards Against Humanity. Ate cheese and crackers, and veggies. Drank too much wine, and stayed up to late. I'm glad I had on waterproof mascara. I haven't laughed that hard in a very long time.

 Flat Stanley got to hang out in my boobs and party with the veggies. 

I bought myself ankle boots with skulls on them. I'm pretty much in love with them.

I got some amazing gifts. Porcupine quill earrings and a silver shark tooth necklace from Kh, and my bestie got me a necklace with dandelion seeds in it. 

Thus far 27 has been interesting. I've had some terrible lows, and some mid-level times. Business is so busy I haven't had a full day off in over a month, which I can't complain about. But I am feeling burnt out, tired. Some days I just want everything to be on mute so I can be alone in my own thoughts. Separate my feelings, compartmentalize everything.

Some days the energy just isn't there.

This is what 27 looks like on me. And one of my new dresses I bought for Mexico. Vacation can't come soon enough.

xo

stream of conscious sunday: my birthday

My birthday is in seven days. It seems like it’s really speeding towards me this year, palm open and ready to slap me across the face. Last year I turned 26, and I wasn’t dreading it so much as I am this year.

It’s not the getting older thing that bothers me. It’s the odd number thing. 27 just doesn’t have a very nice sound to it. 

“Oh yeah, cool, I’m 27.”  Said no one ever.

Pffft.

I’ve never really been one for celebrating my birthday. It was usually just an occasion for someone to make me feel terrible, and sink me into a dark depression for at least a week.

As a kid, I used to hide under the table when everyone would try to sing Happy Birthday to me. Or worse, when everyone’s attention was drawn to me to unwrap all the gifts. What if I got a shitty gift? I’d have to hide the shattering of my little child heart and pretend like I was oh so happy to receive pink fuzzy socks. That hasn’t really changed in adulthood. I hate opening presents in front of people.

I don’t like being the center of attention, I’m more of an avid onlooker that sits back and takes it all in. Forming a good story or silently judging the idiots making fools of themselves.

 

The only time in my life I started to really enjoy my birthday was when I started dating Kh. I’ve had 2 birthdays with her, and each year she makes them pretty great. I get sucked into some kind of birthday obligation that involves hanging out with friends that make me feel miserable the day of my birthday, and Kh always plans a “make up birthday”, the day after. It usually just involves me doing whatever I want and her supporting me with my decision. If I wanted to lie in bed eating ice cream cake and watching Harry Potter all day, she’d be there to change DVDs for me.

True love, that shits for real.

I’m hoping this is the one birthday that afterwards I wake up and feel like an adult on. When I turned 20, I thought 21 would bring a newfound clarity on adulthood and life. When I turned 25, I thought it would be 26. And so on.

Well. Perhaps this is the birthday when others start thinking I’m an adult.

While I know it’s not your age that determines adulthood, I’m still waiting for that “a-ha!” moment. I mean, I’m ok with going on with life always feeling like I’m 21. I’d say 16 but I need to be able to legally drink in my own mind, right? And these lines on my face weren't there when I was 16. 

And my butt wasn't quite as wide as it is now. 

And my boobs weren't nearly this awesome.

 I'm sure I'll have more birthday posts this week. For now, shhh.. it's not this close..

xo