The Diary of Queen Mothy |
My 21st Birthday written @ 9:39 PM on May 20, 2005 So my 21st birthday was on Sunday. It was unlike other 21st birthdays people may have-- because unlike everyone else, I remember mine. Saturday night my dad and his girlfriend-soon-to-be-fiancee (maybe?) Ohma took me out to a five-star restaurant for a late dinner. I told him I didn't want to go anywhere where he knew the bartender and the locals, but he joked that would have been a very difficult task to accomplish. No, my dad is not a drunk-- just... a sociable beer drinker? Hell, I dunno. Evidentally the first time he walked into this restaurant the bartender looked at him and said, "You look like a doctor. I'm going to call you Doc." My dad was like, "...Okay." He only went into the bar a couple of times after work and on Friday nights, but the bartender remembered him-- and so did everyone else on the restaurant staff. Every time he goes in there someone calls him Doc and proceeds to get him a Miller Lite without him even requesting one. "The usual, Doc?" I asked him, "Dude, do they know you're not a doctor?" He thought about it for a moment. "I think one of them does . . ." Oh brother! My dad works in sales and marketing, for the love of God. He added, "I'm sure if you ever walked in here and told them you're Doc's daughter they'll take good care of you." Great. Let me just take mental note of that and store it away for future reference. The restaurant, meanwhile, was so fancy that there was not one bloody sign of grilled cheese or chicken fingers anywhere on the menu, and kobe beef was $64. With the absence of my comfort food, since I have the dietary palette of a two-year-old, I was forced to *gasp* EXPAND MY HORIZONS. The scallops looked relatively... harmless. So I ordered that and actually liked it-- liked it, people-- and then had a mint sundae for dessert with "happy birthday" written in chocolate icing on the plate. Mmm. I actually ate so much that I only had room for one white zinfindel and a white Russian. God bless the guy who invented white Russians. Thus, as midnight rolled around and it officially became my birthday, I had only managed two drinks and wasn't even buzzing. In fact, I was falling asleep because I hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before. And the next day for my birthday I did... nothing. Nothing! Mom let me open my presents, and we went to a nursery to look at flowers and trees. I bought some morning glory, columbine, and moon flower seeds, which are just now beginning to sprout because I'm a horticulture genius, if you've never known, but otherwise I did nothing. Only two of my friends remembered it was my birthday. I was inclined to be really sour about that, but then again I was in too good a mood at the time to care much. That evening, I opened a Blue Hawaiian cooler and sat on the couch watching Desperate Housewives. Then I had a tequila. Then I went to bed. And that was my 21st birthday! I know, I know, pretty pathetic, huh, to be drinking by yourself on your birthday. Maybe one day I will be pissed off at myself for not doing anything, but as it stands I had a pretty good time just watching TV by myself for once. I was perfectly content. Besides, I didn't really want to get shitfaced or anything like that because I had to start work the next day. *sigh* Summer dinner theatre, the curse of theatres everywhere looking to make cheap theatre for a lot of moolah in order to fund great art the rest of the year. It's a blessing, it's a curse, it's a living. Since my mom is trying to sell the house, I've been forbidden from doing any art at home all summer. So, in order to continue my painting work, I've had to go in an hour early to work to squeeze in some artwork time. Then I go to my job. And then if it's not too late after, I do more painting. Today I finished a painting of the Heinz Chapel in Pittsburgh. I took a chapel picture of the afternoon light coming through the stained glass and reflecting off the walls and this huge column. The picture came out so well that I felt I had to translate it into a painting. It's pretty cool. I thought it was going to be much harder to execute than it really was. I'll take a digital of it on Monday and post it here. I'm actually loaded with freelance and commission stuff this summer, which will help my dire financial situation since I overdrew my checking account by $7 (thus, inclining the bank to charge me $30, those capitalistic bastards). I got $50 to paint a bed for the Kentucky Symphony Orchestra's concert version of Evita, which took only an hour. Then I'm getting over $100 to design a simple set for a children's theatre, over $150 to redesign a website and a logo for a vocal singer rep, Lord knows what for another theatre set, and on and on and on. I'm also shooting for an outdoor art show this summer, where maybe I'll try to sell something. The goal for all this money? London, my friends, London! London the day after Christmas and through New Years, baby! I sent away for my passport last week. Au revoir, America. Bonjour, Europe! Speaking of which, goddamn the government for making passport fees so friggin' high! $60 for the initial State Department processing fee and then an extra $30 for the stupid Clerk of Courts to mail it to said State Department! Obviously Republicans are running the State Department. I actually have a lot to say about the current state of affairs in the world and here in the U.S. of A, but right now Jessica is coming over and we're going to make popcorn and watch Harry Potter. Word. Harry Potter 6-- July 16th! Preorder your copy today!
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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