Ah, nineteen. The year of “Hmm-I-thought-I-was-an-adult-but-ya-know-I’m-not really-into-that-anymore-hows-abouts-we-start-that-second-childhood-now?”
Oh, and Harry Potter tattoos. More on that later. I feel like being a bit a lot more cryptic.
I can honestly say that this past birthday was the best I’ve ever had. I spent it with people I was honored to celebrate it with and doing things that make me get one of those goofy little grins on my face that was essentially this: Check out how miniscule those eyes are?! That’s how much daggone smiling Homegirl over here was doing! Also, note that nightgown that I wear, ahem, all the time in the day. My bad. But not really. ‘Cause I’m sure that once Teen Vogue does a 3 page spread on how fashionable nightgowns worn in the daytime are, I will be credited with my masterful discovery.
First stop on my two woman crusade of Sarasota, which involved old folk fleeing upon first sighting us in our shopping endeavors as well as jaws dropping (and subsequently the dentures of the same old folk) when we cleared out local Sweet Tomatoes establishments as well as conveniently placed yard sales.
And then we gallivanted all the wa
y to the “Red Dot Boutique”, aka “Tar-zhay”, aka Target, where I delighted in ogling bowls and cups ( I have a thing for tableware. Don’t hate, appreciate!), getting mini Febreezes for my purse( I cant lie. My perfume is “Eau du Febreeze”), and delighting in their selection of Sharpie pens. Yup. I have a thing for Sharpie pens as well. Especially the purple ones. Drool.
And then the real classy lady festivities began. Awwwww yeaaah. That’s right. Tattoo.
Wait what?! That’s not a golden snitch? That’s not a lightning bolt?! That’s not a picture of Snape on your butt? Yes, it’s the Dewey Decimal number for my favorite book. And yes, I’m in complete nerd-love with it, especially because I volunteered in a bunch of libraries growing up and live approximately 400 feet away from one and practically live inside of it.
So then a night of tomfoolery, shenanigans and lifting up my shirt repeatedly (It is spring break after all?! Okay. Bad joke.) to show people my tat of infinite glory, began.
Yes, you guessed right! A night of dancing to Phil Collins, the “Mulan”and “Lion King” soundtracks, and Michael Bolton was what my birthday was all about. And it was quite majestic. I’m a pretty simple creature. Get me some mini Febreeze, sharpie pens, and oodles of corny music to dance to and I’m pretty content with everything.
I can honestly say that I have the best friends in the world. I have a brother who sends me flowers with no return address and a card that reads “Happy Birthday from your ruggedly attractive boyfriend, Astronaut Mike Dexter”, best friends who know of my fondness for mugs, crunchy peanut butter, paper cranes, and heads of broccoli, and who are accepting of my tattoos.
I couldn’t ask for more, really.
Except purple sharpie pens when I beast mode them. But that’s another story.