My dear friend, Christine, is officially engaged! Just a year ago, we were livin’ la vida loca in Cabo, and now she’s got a baby and a fiancé! Time moves so quickly around here. It seems like only yesterday, Christine, Jessie and I were at Blind Lady talking about the crapshoot that was the three of us, and now I’m the last one standing! The only time I’ve ever felt bad about being single is when I got into a car accident this year and had to be rescued by someone else’s husband. I was standing there at the auto shop watching them lift my car up, and my best friend’s husband was there talking to the mechanic for me, and my heart sank. Partly because they told me how much it would cost to fix my alignment, but mostly because I forgot how nice it was to have someone there to help me.
The few single friends that I have are serial daters. Tinder, Bumble, OK Cupid… If there’s an app for it, they’re on it. And although I pretty much pioneered online dating 20 years ago with my first AOL boyfriend (LoL), I would still prefer to meet someone IRL. Even though most of the guys I meet in real life are assholes. My problem is that I like assholes. If Christine and that rock on her finger taught me anything, it’s that you don’t always end up with the kind of guy you’re used to being with. I definitely have a type. If they’re bearded, witty and/or an asshole, all the boxes are checked. Maybe if I go for a nice guy with a babyface who tells mediocre jokes, the outcome will be different. I guess I’ll never know since the guys my friends want to set me up with have girlfriends already! Ha.
Going to a rap show and staying out till 2am on a Tuesday reminded me that I’m no spring chicken anymore. I used to be able to hang on a weeknight, but now I just get hungover! So this weekend, I was happy to do lowkey adult things like apartment hunting, grocery shopping and laundry. I even woke up at an ungodly hour to shop the early bird sales. Now I can’t wait to go to sleep on my new Vera Wang sheets and mattress topper (it’ll change your life, I swear). This old lady’s ready for bed!
It took me 4 hours to drive down to San Diego for Christine’s baby shower, and I arrived with less than an hour left to partake in the taco cart. After stuffing myself with 5 tacos (the 5th one was a mistake!), I was told that the taco guy was staying an extra hour, and I didn’t need to eat all those tacos in record time.
At least the taco vendor didn’t mistake me and my food baby for the pregnant celebrant (sorry, Jessie! LOL).
The last time Paul McCartney played a show in San Diego, I wasn’t even born yet. But I grew up listening to the Beatles because my dad would blast their records and play along with his guitar when I was a kid. I always thought he was their biggest fan, but Anthony might be giving him a run for his money.
Since none of our friends are going to the show with us, I’ll probably have to be Anthony’s emergency contact for when he faints like a fangirl at a Michael Jackson concert! Ha. When I asked my dad if he wanted tickets for his birthday, he said that he already bought tickets for himself, my mom and their friends before I even got mine. My bad, presale! Maybe someone else can be Anthony’s emergency contact after all.
When my sister woke me up from my food coma to break the news of Paul Walker‘s untimely death yesterday, I thought I was dreaming. But then it became Facebook official, and everyone started texting me to make sure I wasn’t hanging from my shower rod.
On a scale of 1 to Dawson, how ugly is my cry face right now???
Happy 55th birthday to one crazy broad! At her birthday dinner last weekend, our waiter thought that my mom was my sister. He also didn’t card me when I ordered my vodka. #1 How dare you? (I have the face of a goddamn minor!) #2 I hope I look as young as my mom does when I’m in my fifties!