It's true. I really do admire her. And she really is that chic.
Showing posts with label birthdays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthdays. Show all posts
Friday, February 20, 2009
For the Pop Quiz Mother
Having mentioned my momma's birthday, I thought I'd share the card that I made her. It is, if I do say so myself, awesome. Hey, the card fits the lady.
It's true. I really do admire her. And she really is that chic.
It's true. I really do admire her. And she really is that chic.
Monday, February 16, 2009
PQK, it's your birthday. Happy Birthday, PQK.
Do you remember that episode of The Simpson's where everyone forgets Lisa's birthday? The one where she sings "Happy Birthday to Me" while sitting in the dark, eating a lone cupcake? And then Bart cowrites a song with Michael Jackson and everything is all better?
Like I mentioned in my last post, my own birthday is coming up pretty quickly. Do to my recent lethargic attitude towards everything, I've been feeling pretty blah about it. I want something low-key and low pressure. I have no desire to have a party or go to a nice restaurant like I usually do. Instead, I'd rather go eat some samosas at my favorite Himalayan restaurant with my nearest and dearest before hitting up a bar and then returning home, relatively sober, by one.
Even with what I consider to be pretty frickin' low expectations, I'm already beginning to feel the dreaded clouds of disappointment gathering above my head. So far, it seems like everyone who I'd want to be with has to work. Some have even picked up shifts, knowing that it's my birthday. I also wrote in my facebook status that I would like people to come out. So far I have one response and it's from my friend S who would probably agree to go out and celebrate anytime you had a particularly satisfying jog. If the jog didn't go so well, he'd probably want to go out anyway. The calm, reasonable, and mature PQK tells me that these slights have absolutely nothing to do with me or how these people value my friendship. The louder less mature PQK is saying "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" So, right now I'm feeling pretty bummed. About a birthday that I didn't think I cared about in the first place.
Believe me, I know how immature I sound. But also believe me that I have a history of having parties that nobody showed up to, of people forgetting to pick me up on New Years, or, less painful maybe, sitting in a restaurant for a half hour before anybody else showed up. I would love to be a person who didn't care at all about my birthday, but every time it comes around, no matter how everything else in my life is going, I revert back into a sixteen year old girl, all dressed up for a celebration that only my parents will show up for. I hate how that sixteen year old version of myself manages to take over so easily, like the last six years of my life never even happened.
I just told my roommate that I don't want to do anything at all. I'm not sure if that's entirely truthful because, right now, all I can think about is sitting in a dark kitchen as I sing "Happy Birthday" to myself. I'm pretty sure that no one has time to team up with Michael Jackson and write a song for me. Besides, I don't really want to meet Michael Jackson anyways.
Urgh. I promise that this blog will get less maudlin any day now.
Like I mentioned in my last post, my own birthday is coming up pretty quickly. Do to my recent lethargic attitude towards everything, I've been feeling pretty blah about it. I want something low-key and low pressure. I have no desire to have a party or go to a nice restaurant like I usually do. Instead, I'd rather go eat some samosas at my favorite Himalayan restaurant with my nearest and dearest before hitting up a bar and then returning home, relatively sober, by one.
Even with what I consider to be pretty frickin' low expectations, I'm already beginning to feel the dreaded clouds of disappointment gathering above my head. So far, it seems like everyone who I'd want to be with has to work. Some have even picked up shifts, knowing that it's my birthday. I also wrote in my facebook status that I would like people to come out. So far I have one response and it's from my friend S who would probably agree to go out and celebrate anytime you had a particularly satisfying jog. If the jog didn't go so well, he'd probably want to go out anyway. The calm, reasonable, and mature PQK tells me that these slights have absolutely nothing to do with me or how these people value my friendship. The louder less mature PQK is saying "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" So, right now I'm feeling pretty bummed. About a birthday that I didn't think I cared about in the first place.
Believe me, I know how immature I sound. But also believe me that I have a history of having parties that nobody showed up to, of people forgetting to pick me up on New Years, or, less painful maybe, sitting in a restaurant for a half hour before anybody else showed up. I would love to be a person who didn't care at all about my birthday, but every time it comes around, no matter how everything else in my life is going, I revert back into a sixteen year old girl, all dressed up for a celebration that only my parents will show up for. I hate how that sixteen year old version of myself manages to take over so easily, like the last six years of my life never even happened.
I just told my roommate that I don't want to do anything at all. I'm not sure if that's entirely truthful because, right now, all I can think about is sitting in a dark kitchen as I sing "Happy Birthday" to myself. I'm pretty sure that no one has time to team up with Michael Jackson and write a song for me. Besides, I don't really want to meet Michael Jackson anyways.
Urgh. I promise that this blog will get less maudlin any day now.
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