Birthday Post

It's my birthday!!! My real birthday. Fuckin' A!!  I can be as inappropriate as I want and say whatever I want and no one can say shit about it!

Rick Santorum is a cocksucker!!!

That felt good.  

As a little tribute to myself, I thought I'd write about some memorable birthday pasts.

My Birth
An epic day, as the coolest fucking cat you know emerged from a vagina.

First Photo:

"Put me baaaaaccckkkkkkk!"

My 4th Birthday
My mom rented a lady dressed up like a freaky fucking penguin and I spent the whole time hiding.

Photo Evidence:

"Ahhhhh!! Get the fuck away from me you creepy bird lady!!"

My 9th Birthday
Sleepover. If I believed in God, I might pray that I don't have a female child solely because little girl sleepovers are like Lord of the fucking Flies on steroids. Anyway, at this particular party a friend was upset because her suitcase went missing.  None of the little girls would fess to it and my mom lined us all up and threatened to call the cops if one of us didn't tell the truth. The girl called later to say that she had left her suitcase at home.  This didn't repair the psychological damage of my mom's prison threats.

My 16th Birthday
I was pooping in the high school bathroom and some girls came in.  They heard me and started whispering back and forth, "Oh my God!" - "Who is that?!" - "I don't know, but gross!!" - "I think it's Georgia Angelo!"
They waited outside the bathroom to confirm. Fucking happy birthday to me.

My 17th Birthday
Bonfire party in Lyons.  I'm pretty sure somewhere out there exists footage of me running through a bonfire with forties taped to my hands.

My 21st Birthday
I got so drunk for so many consecutive days that I got pneumonia. But I also hooked up with my husband in the same week, so I'd chalk that up as a W!

My 22nd Birthday
I threw a birthday party.  My brother took it over, making it a mullet-cutting party.

Photo Evidence:

Kentucky Waterfall

My 24th Birthday
Again, really drunk. But this time I was at The Lazy Dog and encountered an old, homeless black man who I overheard tell the bartender, "Man, all I want tonight is to dance with a white girl."  Needless to say, I spent my 24th birthday hammered, dancing with him.

Photo Evidence: 

Only people on the dancefloor. 

Everyone else was too intimidated.

In, conclusion. Happy Leap Day. Go buy me a fucking present. I'm gonna go eat a cupcake.

Back with the 'Rents

Oh shit!  I haven't posted in about a month!  People are basically knocking down my door, pleading for more .... but man, my funny has been sucked dry from living with my parents and being unemployed.

I'm going to go this whole post without saying penis.  Starting .... PENIS .... now.

In case you didn't start paying attention until now, I'm currently living with my parents.  My husband is at Air Force Officer Training until the end of April and I didn't want to live in our shit hole apartment by myself, so I moved home.

Anyone who knows my parents knows that they are fucking rad.  They've always given me freedom and support.  And because I will be moving to California in the spring, it's really wonderful to get to spend time with them before I go.  I love them.

That being said, I'm edging closer to 30, so living with my parents is also really fucking weird.  You know, you grow up and think to yourself, "Next time I go home I'm going to ___________."  Then you go home and you're right back in the role you had when you were 8.  That's just how families are.  It's cool.  I pop my fingers like every 24 seconds, but I'm coming to terms with it.

Here's a short list of things that are weird when you move home to live with your parents as an adult - or at least the weird shit I have been dealing with. Something tells me other people might not have the same experiences .... :

• You are no longer just a social worker, serving additionally as an IT Specialist, Stylist, Detective, Physical Therapist, Dermatologist (rash-checker), etc.
• You come down to pee at 1am and your dad may or may not be on the couch watching soft-core porn.
• About every five minutes your mom asks, "Where is my waterbottle?!?"
• You feel even guiltier masturbating now than you did when you were 14.
• Your parents come into your room in the morning and say things like, "It's 10 o'clock."
• The drawers you used to keep your art supplies in as a child are now full of marijuana.
• Death is a popular topic.  As in, "When I die I don't want any of that long-funeral-service-shit. I want you to put my body on the dining room table and people can just come into the fucking house and say goodbye."
• Your little brother went on a spiritual journey in South America and when he came home, he lived in the room you're now staying in.  You keep knocking dried weeds off the walls and disrupting strategically placed ornaments.  You think you might be fucking cursed. 
• Your dad says things to you like, "Man, if your brother had your legs he'd be a beast!" 

The funniest part of this whole experience is that when I googled, "moving back home as an adult" to get inspiration for this blog post, all that came up was a bunch of shit like, "Don't let your adult children moving home derail your goals!"

As if my mom doesn't like picking up after me. Puh-lease.