It's my mom's birthday today. She just turned forty-eight. Forty-eight, for chrissake! The woman looks thirty-five. I'm convinced she's got vials and vials of some sort of youth elixir stashed away in her bedroom that she drinks every morning. She looks younger now than she did ten years ago. No joke.Anyway, she's having a party in the apartment this evening which will eventually move itself to some trendy dance club downtown later tonight. She informed me that I'm welcome to be in the apartment and mingle with the guests while they're here. My response?
"Gosh, thanks mom, here I was thinking I'd stay out of the apartment for the night to leave you and the rest of the actuaries, lawyers, and accountants to have your wild party without your dorky 20-year-old daughter cramping your style. I mean, I know I have no friends in this city to visit or go out with, but I figured I'd just camp out on the street and beg for food ... but THIS .. wow, this just makes my night! Thanks so much for allowing me the priviledge --"
My mom: "OK, OK Lara, enough with the sarcasm, I just meant that you didn't have to stay in your room all night, you're welcome to join the party!"
Now, normally I'd reply with some sort of sarcastic comment like "Thank you, warden", but considering I didn't want to miss out on free booze and the opportunity to witness an apartment full of tipsy actuaries and accountants, I just said thanks and kept my mouth shut.
This oughta be good.
So the guests should be here any minute now ... so I'm gonna have to wrap this entry up. I may write another entry later tonight when they've all gone to the club ... hell, it's not like I've got anything else to do.
I believe it's time to pour myself a drink, sit back, and wait for the suits to come in and get soused. Hmm ... I wonder if my mom will let me play bartender tonight?
*Insert mischievous cackle here*
Cheers!
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