Thursday, November 10, 2005


DISCLAIMER: This is not a "it's my birthday...buy me crap" or "feed me a bunch of sweet bull hock that ain't true" post.

For one, it's not my birthday. Not today, anyway.

It's just that, having turned 30, and after years of trying to pretend like I had a viable circle of friends that didn't piss me off on a regular basis, I'm done.

I don't.

And I don't care.

Really. It's okay. I'm okay with it.

I would rather be alone than with crap people who can't be relied upon.

My friends are for shit. At least, here in Los Angeles. And even when, on the happy day I don't live here anymore, people just get on my damn nerves. I'm not becoming a shut-in or anything; I just honestly can't handle more than a couple of (crap) personalities at once. Er. Not at an "intimate" dinner, anyway.

And chances are? Even with two or three people? One of 'ems bound to chap my hide.

So, no more birthday parties, even if I still had a large group of friends in town. I'm sick of shelling out the dough and then worrying about whether people actually show up in this flaky damn place. Besides, I hate throwing a "party" unless it's an actual party, and not the suckass L.A. version (no food, everyone has to buy their own drinks and whatever.)


So, I am thinking of doing one of the following instead:

Option A: Have a full-on crazy cat lady party. Make the cats wear pointy hats on their heads; blow tooters in their faces; attempt to dodge deadly swats w/ extended claws. Serve hors d'oeuvres made out of sardines, pickled herring, and fish paste on toast. Eat with cats until sick. Barf. Eat grass. Barf again. Repeat. Barf repeatedly.

Barf never disappoints.

Option B: Steal car. Go to Wild Animal Park. Let baboons steal my (stolen) bumper.

Big red-assers won't flake on you.

Alternatively: Go to petting zoo and let the goats eat my pants. Not sure why, but this would make me happy.

Pants-eating goats never let you down.

Option C: "Inform a male co-worker that he 'wouldn't make a good hooker.' Then piss in his coffee and tell him that he needs a good ass fucking." -forwarded to me (stolen from The Office?) This sounds mighty fine.

Yes. Yes, I think I will. And maybe a kick in the pants, to boot.

Thank you, Sir! May I have another...?


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