So yesterday was my birthday. Did any of you people get me a fucking birthday cake? No. No you didn’t.
To be fair, I didn’t really announce that my birthday was coming up, quite like I did last year. When I turned 30, I wouldn’t shut the hell up about it for about nine months before the day. The 31st birthday isn’t quite as much of a milestone, and – frankly – I’d like to continue to believe I’m still 28 anyway. I mean I just finally referred to myself as “30 years old” a couple weeks ago – for the first time; and even that sent me screaming for the bottle of Xanax and pint of peach Schnapps. I’d like to get back to the whole 28 forever thing.
So I forgive you. I didn’t need the cake calories anyway.
You all shouldn’t feel bad, though, because even Poor Nick didn’t arrange cake for me. We had a little game night last month for my birthday, although I didn’t get a piece of that cake (that I baked). I was too busy playing hostess of game night, then he took it to work the next day. Yesterday on my actual birthday, I celebrated by buying myself a piece of low fat, flourless chocolate cake after it had become clear that no one else in my house arranged anything. It was tastier and better for me than anything they would have gotten anyway.
So in spite of all of the lackadaisical attempts to woo me with carbs and frosting, I have ushered in my 31st year with a little celebration of my own. By “celebration” I mean I made a to-do list of imperatives for the next year. You do all know how much I love my lists, and they’re “imperatives” because these are things that had better happen in the next year, or they’re never going to happen. I kept my list at my dream number. If I think “28” enough times, it will come true. Right?
#1 Celebrate my generation.
I don’t mean “my generation” like the general group of people that make up these incredibly douchey, overworked, a-hole hipster 30-somethings. I mean celebrate the generation in which I was born. I’m talking about the motherfucking 80s, bitches.
Fortunately, all I have to do is open my closet and I’m confronted with 80s attire. I’ve loaded the Netflix que with 80s classics that can be watched on repeat. And the newest station plugged into my Pandora is “80s playlist.” Now… where’s my crimper?
#2 On the note of my crimper…
This year’s biggest to-do is to keep up on my womanhood. Keep my hair feeling nice. Take the time I need to shave my hairy legs. Get my nails done when they need to be done, rather than when my feet begin to look like a gargoyle’s. I can’t feel like a woman if I don’t treat myself like one.
#3 Eat more pho.
#4 Drink more Italian sodas.
#5 Punch every person in the balls that I hear judging others for their weight and/or eating habits and/or relaxation activities.
Just because I like to eat salad and be active doesn’t mean I need to judge others for having different values than me. I think I will reach superhero status if I punch people in the balls that do not agree with my philosophy on this.
#6 Knit myself a bunch of shit.
Knit others nothing. All I ever do is knit things for others! It’s time to do some work for myself.
#7 Finish my goal of reading 52 books for 2013.
I am currently on #13.
#8 Publish my next blog book.
#9 Start working on my next novel.
#10 Stop worrying about blogging, writing, and reading quotas
I know, this runs contrary to #s 7 – 9.
#11 Purge even more things from our apartment than I did during spring cleaning last month.
#12 Update our wall art.
With my own paintings.
#13 Update my wardrobe.
With clothes that actually fit, versus the ones right now that fall off me – they are just too big.
#14 Buy myself some new bras.
Seriously. I have two.
#15 Consider therapy to explore why I only wear black underpants.
#16 Acquire more jewelry.
Why was I left out on the memo that women wear jewelry? And on how good it can make you feel to wear it?
#17 Acquire more diamonds.
By giving my husband more blow jobs.
That was a joke. I don’t give my husband blow jobs to begin with, so the concept of beginning, or giving “more” is false. But I could perhaps start letting him hug me for his own “personal use” on occasion.
I’m still kidding. I typically prefer to be untouched.
#18 Acquire more animals for my apartment.
My apartment is rapidly becoming a house of murder. I just really love my ode to taxidermy.
#19 Save money…
…to buy myself a Sleep Number bed.
#20 Move out of our shitty apartment.
Preferably somewhere that I don’t get contact high just from walking outdoors.
#21 Move to a bigger place.
Where I can have a little space from the crazy people that comprise my family.
#22 Demand a room all for me.
…at said bigger place. Right now I get hardly any space, and my writing is confined to the couch; my artwork having to be done outside.
#23 Move home, to Chicago.
#24 Have more babies.
That’s right I didn’t just say “have a baby,” I said “have more babies.” And I just contradicted my little diatribe under #17 about not allowing my husband to touch me. (I think I need to squeeze “spend all year contradicting myself” into this list somewhere.)
In any event, I’m determined to birth as many little, slime-y shitters as I can, just to get revenge on some of our family that seems to be opposed to us procreating like good Catholics.
I also think babies are cool. But I ain’t no spring chicken, and have no plans of being wheeled into my kid’s high school graduation(s) in a wheel chair on life support because I’m pushing 100. It’s now or never, Poor Nick. Now or never.
#25 Embarrass more frequently.
I have really been failing at my job as parent, when it comes to embarrassing. My parents embarrassed the everliving shit out of me when I was a kid. And it’s why I’m able to be comfortable in my own skin, and just be me now.
#26 Do a three month set of homeschooling…
…that is entirely the way I want to do it. Just to see how it goes. (Right now I still cow-tow to traditional school standards, as well as family pressure.)
#27 Tolerate less bullshit.
…still, kids weald a lot of bullshit too. There is no reason to tolerate the tantrums, and following that up with begging and pleading to get them to stop. I’m telling you faithful blog followers – time outs and consequences aren’t just a thing of the past.
#28 Throw absolutely no more parties this year.
Well, except for a friend’s baby shower this June… but that’s it for me.
It’s time to start enjoying my time on this earth. Life’s too short to always be running yourself ragged for others, while sitting around and waiting for people to celebrate “you” only for them to do nothing. That’s why I bought my own piece of cake yesterday, and why this next year is the year of me.
Or you might call it: the year of the B(itch). It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? What are on your to-dos this year, faithful blog followers?