It's finally 2017, and while I don't have much hope that it will be better then 2016, but that didn't stop me from celebrating the closing of this year in style. I looked like a disco slut and somehow convinced myself that I looked good in the club's bathroom.
Going out dancing isn't really my thing. It's not something I do, but I considered what other reckless similarly minded people would be doing, and I thought clubbing was perfect. I hate that word unless it's being used ironically, but I went clubbing. Some exciting things happened. A drag queen told me she liked my pants and someone asked if they could touch me?
We danced. We sang. I stayed on my milk and cookies diet. I kissed someone at midnight, popped some balloons and found a dollar bill inside it.
The clubbing experience ended about 12:30 at night and ended with the five of us getting fro-yo, congratulating ourselves on how avante-garde we were. It was a night to remember even if it didn't involve an after-after party.
I had a post written for today that was light and frothy, a standard I try to maintain on this forum, but when Debbie Reynolds similarly passed away, I couldn't post it. I grew up watching her movies, her films, and she occupied a spot in my heart that can't be replaced.
We should have never lost our space mom and it's not right that we had to lose both legends in the same year. 2016 has taken so much from us. I lost part of myself today. I know it will eventually be alright, but I can't help it. I'm devastated. I am completely torn apart. We lost people we should have never lost, people who just by existing were a bright a spot in this world, and I'm not sure how we're going to cope in 2017 without them. They will forever be in my, and I hope many others hearts.
I loved getting out to vote. I got to represent my millennials. The youngest person I saw was forty at best. And, I would like to say I didn't waste my time, but my state has no swing left in it. All I got to do was prove to my parents what liberal trash I am and for that I think it was all worth it.
The Farmer's Market was the standout excursion of our trip. We don't have those back home after all. I got these cute little bacon donuts. My sister got a bottle of wine and we split a root beer float.
The company was the best part of the trip. It was the bonding with the brother in law, open discussion of family drama, and red eye flights. I even got my first pedicure and after being sat next to the rhinestone cowboy on my flight back to Houston, I was moved and met this gorgeous girl who goes to school in Alabama. My mother told me never to talk to strangers, but there's always a first for everything.
You may have noticed a few months ago that I started blogging about country music. What can I say? I get very emotional during the school year and sentimental country music comforts me as a reminder of my childhood when my parents loved me. Although, I refuse to fully embrace country music until they change the spelling to cuntry.
That's how I discovered Brandy Clark. Everyone's favorite lesbian country singer. You can read the article I wrote on her here. She's fantastic and is one of the women leading the way towards fixing the gender imbalance at country radio.
Miss Sara Bellum and I got there early. We had our tickets in our hands. We waited an hour for the curtains to go up. I remember sitting there and hearing the opening arrangement to Brandy Clark's “Soap Opera” start and I wanted to cry. Big Day In A Small Town is one of the most phenomanal albums of 2016.
She stood there in real life. Her voice was strong and good. She looked great. Her weight was accurate. I expected it to be up honestly. I always assume there's photoshop. She asked at one point if there were any crazy women in the audience and I have never screamed louder in my life.
Also I'm not bringing back my YouTube channel. It's emotionally draining. My camera's not that good and I don't want you all to see that I'm not blonde anymore.
One good thing that's happened to me is that I found a pair of shorts that make it look like my inverse concave ass has a shape. Taylor Swift Booty 2.0. It's sexy as hell. Tight and fitted. Some have called me a slut and their not wrong. My mother called them “tailored”. That was kind of her.
Unfortunately, I didn't lose three pounds like my icon Regina George. Granted she never did either. I mention her, because I'm a super cool person with fun things to do, and I went to a Mean Girls trivia.
One of his friends was gorgeous in a geek boy kind of way. He had a perfect moon face and virgin skin. Miss Sara Bellum's type. I told her I would ask for his number for her. She told me that wasn't necessary. As if either of us are getting any younger.
By Monday, my celebrity high was over. And, I went to see a movie with my mother. It was called Love & Friendship. We both loved it. After all what's not to love about a Jane Austen remake. I am Lady Susan after all.
I have however frankensteined it into working. I connected a desktop keyboard into one of the ports and now here I am typing to you. It might not be pretty, but I'm not destitute yet.
My eagerly anticipated weekly youtube videos will return once all these technical difficulties get worked out lol.
I've been trying to set Miss Sara Bellum's and my mother up together. Not in a romantic, relationship way. Although, I would personally love some good lesbian moms.
The summer has been hot and sticky. I don't have a summer fling yet, but I also don't have the money for that. So, instead I've been at home watching The Price Is Right and eating yogurt, doing yoga, getting ready for that beach body I'll never get to show, because the closest body of water I have is a lake. Summer is the best.
Honestly, I've been spending a lot of time with my mother. The madre. The woman who pushed me out of her vagina. We had a great Mother's Day. I took her to a nice hole in the wall for breakfast. I got sausage gravy and biscuits like a good country boy.
The night of debauchery ended with us seeing a screening of Mothers and Daughters. It was dull and contrite, but ended warm and predictable. We meant to see Susan Sarandon's film The Meddler, but that's another story. Spending time with your mother is the best, especially if you don't hate each other. We're going to see Carrie Underwood together. My country white girl heart is bleeding.
Rosencrantz and I have been reconnecting as well. We spent the better part of last year not talking, mostly my fault. I need to make more time for people. We've been three muskeetering it with Sacajawea, the true love of our lives.
It was my 20th birthday. I came to the gripping realization that I hadn't accomplished anything with my life other then beating teen pregnancy. It was a beautiful rainy day. I woke up and had a reheated cup of coffee and enjoyed life. I was less then a week away from finals. I was drained, but elated, exhausted, yet ecstatic, looking beautiful as usual.
That night I had plans with two of my favorite people in college. They both canceled on me. One was sick, and the other one has restrictive parents who didn't want her to go out in the rain, which I personally think is very reasonable.
I'm glad she forced me out of my Friends marathon. Honestly, what else would I have to do during the summer if I'd watched it all on my birthday?
We were also going to see my grandfather and great aunt who is dying of cancer. It was all high points and family reunion.
Saw the brother in law. He probably low key hates me. I was a bitch. A teenager with an attitude problem the last time we talked. I think their children are wonderful. My sister and I bonded. The children had so much energy and I was obsessed with them. They were cute and tiny and anyway I want children someday. Certainly not right now, because I’m still way too selfish and self-absorbed to take care of a child by myself. But someday.
A highlight of the trip was going out drinking with my mother. I stayed sober. My sister and mother did not. We had a tattooed waiter who told us we were pretty. We said “cunt” and “fuck”. He said “shit”. It was a wonderful and professional night. We even went to this hick bar where they sang the unclean version of “Forget You” at karaoke.
And, I stole a gorgeous fake fur coat. Its floor length and I’m going to tell everyone its mink. But, I was charitable and I stole a matching one for my sister. That’s what true family is. Robbing for one another. It may be April, but I’m still lounging around in a shroud of fake fur with nothing underneath but my dignity and pajamas.
Melodrama puncutated with exclamation points.