This morning, one of the blog writers I just started to follow wrote the following:
I’d love to write about parties and dates and where I went to eat. Impress you with the cutting-edge emo playlists on my iPod and casually mention that I caught such-and-such eyeliner-and-irony-clad band at a hole in the wall bar the other night.
At this point in my life, those stories would include a lot of Hot Wheels, mad dashes to the early movie, and tales of Ruby Tuesdays. My iPod playlists are full of songs to keep toddlers quiet while I’m on conference calls in the car.
Sweet, right? Snore.
And I was like, “OMG, please never let me grow up.” I get that women’s feelings apparently change hardcore after they have children, and I’m told that even I may devolve into something nurturing and selfless was I ever to give birth, but not being encumbered by adult stuff feels so good. As Dr. Boyfriend said after spending time with his married/babied friends over the holiday break, “I really appreciate the little life we’ve made for ourselves.” That little life being one that involves never eating dinner at home, dancing on Friday nights, and non-stop caring only for ourselves.
So in celebration of my perpetual youth, I offer you:
My (unexpected) teenage celebrity crush, which is not really a crush but an example
of how I’d like to conduct myself if I was to become famous. Look how cool his wave is.
My overly-emo song of the moment.
My really amazing birthday dessert sampler at Max Brenner that included
POP ROCKS covered in liquid chocolate.
And my best friend and me, looking soooooo badass
on New Year’s Eve at our friends’ house party. (No?)
Sure, most of that party was spent taking pictures of their baby eating the husband’s nose
but I was wearing my homemade Bulletproof necklace while photographing, so they cancel each other out and leave nothing but my natural hardcoreness and me.
10 Comments
That dessert looks awesome.
Life changes with kids. It’s for some and not for others. I keep saying I don’t want any, but my parents are convinced I’ll change my mind when I’m a little older…we’ll see.
Thank god EVERYONE ELSE I KNOW is having kids so all the you-have-to-have-children-to-be-happy cult can occupy themselves with babies and leave me alone for a while.
That dessert was mind-blowing.
The Diner I spoke of was Shopsin’s:
Stall No. 16, 120 Essex Street
I feel very cool when you give me an address that inexplicably-to-everyone-else has the words Stall No. 16 in it and I understand why.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shopsins
Hey, thanks. I’m a little weirded out about missing this the few times I’ve been to Essex, but I’ll keep a look out next time with your recommendation.
Yeah. My newest hobby is couponing. I get especially excited about diaper coupons.
I am also not bothered by going out in public with regurgitated milk on my shirt and I’ve been known to sniff a crotch (to check for diaper freshness!) in restaurants.
Buuuut I was never really cool to begin with.
Maybe it’s just because I’ve been following you for a while and know you pre-baby and post-baby, but somehow diaper coupons and regurgitated milk are charming when you talk about them.
Or maybe, yeah, your pre-baby and post-baby life are very much the same but with bigger boobs.
Your necklace wasn’t nearly enough to offset the baby eating nose cuteness.
The baby eats nose thing is a classic (been around since the early 1960’s I believe, lol)
To effectively counter such an awesome move like that you would need to have gone to the extreme and have taken out a “Rambo: First Blood” knife and plunge it into your thigh.
Then while your wound is gushing (and don’t you dare cry) start yelling, “Yeah I’m BadAss, what about you?”
But come on, that baby is TRYING TO CANNIBALIZE HER DAD. That’s at least a LITTLE hardcore, right?