This skit from SNL had me doubled over in pain from laughing so hard:
Today I may have more lines on my face,
Today I may not be able to stay up as late as I used to or remember where I put my keys, but as I get older, I graciously accept, because with age comes new experiences, wisdom, and more ways to love. With each new day, I encounter a new learning method, a new way to love my husband more, and I uncover a little more understanding what parenting is all about.
This year I learned to persevere. I learned what it really means to commit to something. “Oh, Beckey, you’re married, that’s a commitment.” True, but being married is lovely and fun and going to school where I was away from my beautiful baby and husband is not fun or lovely. Yes, I was able to learn a trade that makes me infinitely cooler, and a little intimidating at times, but I’ve never in my life had to do something that was hard work or challenging. Somehow I’ve managed to skate along my life and do things the easy way. But managing full time mommy-hood, and going to school at night was really, really hard work, and this experience has defiantly stretched me in a new, and at times incredibly uncomfortable way.
But now that I’m all done, It’s time to put my feet up, gorge on cupcakes, and sing the happy birthday song to me!!
It’s that time of year again for people who love me to buy me lots of stuff! Or, better expressed: It’s my Birthday, with a capital B. (Pssst..It’ s actually tomorrow, but I am giving you a day’s notice, so you can hit the shopping malls, you’re welcome very much) I don’t expect too much fanfare, I just want a “happy birthday” greeting left by voice mail or text, or you can comment on my blog, Twitter, or Facebook–but please refrain from super poking, I’m still badly bruised from last time. And for those of you who love me more than words can express, here are some fantastic ideas (you’re welcome, again, very much):
a Hostess-lovers tote bag, complete with tiny depictions of dancing Twinkies and Ding-Dongs.
A pretty, pretty vanity mirror. So when I’m putting on my make up in the morning, I won’t be as terrified when I look in the mirror.
A Marc by Marc Jacobs watch.
All I have to do is wait for the heat wave to pass, then I’d flash dance all over my home in these saucy suckers.
Toothpaste. Okay, so I want toothpaste for my birthday. Whatever. It’s fancy, and purple, and I wouldn’t mind if someone bought some for me, I won’t even take it the wrong way. Promise.
Today marks a very pivotal day in my life: I will complete 1600 hours of cosmetology school! Yippie. I’m so frickin excited I can’t hold it all in! I’m finally finished!! And to celebrate, I have decided to make a chocolate mold of my ass, like those sassy hooligans on Girls Next Door, wait, I don’t watch that smut, Shoot, yes I do! Aahh, stop judging me! …instead have a bite of my ass, it’s chocolaty delicious.
Now that I am a professional hairstylist, I really need to get an incredibly crass and always tacky license plate frame, so that the old woman that I almost hit in the grocery store parking lot knows exactly what I do when I’m not trying to run over old ladies.
Here are some unsavory options:
Here are some disparaging options:
…and, of course, the cliche options:
I can’t decide. They’re all amazing. I think I should get all of them and switch them out daily.
In the past 12 months I have purchased a lot of shoes, and not crappy Target shoes either, but nice, fancy-lady expensive shoes. My thinking was simple: I’ll buy quality not quantity. But as I started to by quality, I got addicted, and both quality and quantity slipped into the equation.
Now I’m poor, and for the next 12 months I am going on a very strict shoe diet. No new shoes for a whole year! None, zip, zilch, zero. And when I stare longingly at the beautiful pair in the window, I’ll just have to remind myself that it’s going to be okay, I have a shoe-diction, and I am working through it.