Yesterday, May 1st, was my sister's birthday. Happy Birthday Carrie! She's 28, which is kind of fucked up, mostly cause it means there's no way I'm 28 anymore. I think she went to an immigration march yesterday, because that's the sort of stuff she does on her birthday. Since it so conveniently coincides with International Workers Day. I don't think that was by accident. I think my parents, when I was born, knew right away I would never do anything for the socio-political advancement of humanity, and they planned Carrie's birth specifically to curse her with do-goodingness.
It was also Buddy's birthday. Happy Birthday Buddy! We'll hang out soon and do something debaucherous. Like watch tv. And I promise you, from here on out I'm going to completely forget how old you are ever, because I've been doing a smashing job of that so far.
It was the Kentucky Derby yesterday. The Boy was working, so I hung out with the Ex (it's a thing we're trying to do now, not hate each other, and who else do I watch horse racing with? When are the rest of my friends going to get on this fucking bandwagon?) and went to an Irish bar nearby to watch it. I argued that jockeys could in no way be cokeheads because they are such professionals when it comes to the big leagues like the Derby. Calvin Borel proved me right by crying a lot, which I don't think he'd be able to do if he was tweeking. Calvin won again, and Fletcher got his first Derby win, and the horse named Dublin did not win which was sad because that is totally a great Triple Crown Winner name, whereas Super Saver makes everyone in the team's hats look like they work at a dollar store. It was a good win though.
I have officially renamed West Park Station, the bar populated blocks near my house, Douchebag Station. I know douchebag is SO over, but so are all those people, so it still fits. Sitting outside the bar after the race, I listened to the same gel-curled girl explain to her guy friends, all of whom had knee braces on and some sort of jerseys, that:
- her mom was mad she was not getting married by 25
- she had better put off getting her masters and have kids now, because if she has them after 25, they'll be unhealthy
- her sister's husband is gay because he bought her a mani-pedi and knew what that was, also because he took off work to help his little sister shop for a prom dress. (to which one of the boys said "of course he's gay, he lives in Lakewood". In West Park they said this. Like, 2 blocks from the border of Lakewood.)
Then we watched the Cavs game at a wine bar, and it was super close and we left before the end, but stopped at a store to buy cigarettes and watched the final minutes of the game with the store owners on the little tv behind the counter, and everyone cheered when they won, including me, who may have jumped up and down a little. I can get really into the end of basketball games. Not so much the beginning though. I like belonging to the winners.
Also, though I haven't watched it yet, Mayweather bested Mosley, which apparently wasn't supposed to happen.
So yesterday was all about competitions, and I think that fits right along with Workers Day and birthdays. Cause that's what this is all about right, competing every day to get something right, to make more money, to have a better life, to win something you're not supposed to be able to. Congratulations! You've won another year of your life. You've won one step in a championship. You've beaten a record. You've proved you're not old and used up yet. May 1st is Winner's Day. Congratulations for choosing to be a player in this whole crazy set up. Someone should make you some cookies.
It may be me, because I finally got a new(er) stove yesterday. Oh the joys of a working oven! Win!
It was also Buddy's birthday. Happy Birthday Buddy! We'll hang out soon and do something debaucherous. Like watch tv. And I promise you, from here on out I'm going to completely forget how old you are ever, because I've been doing a smashing job of that so far.
It was the Kentucky Derby yesterday. The Boy was working, so I hung out with the Ex (it's a thing we're trying to do now, not hate each other, and who else do I watch horse racing with? When are the rest of my friends going to get on this fucking bandwagon?) and went to an Irish bar nearby to watch it. I argued that jockeys could in no way be cokeheads because they are such professionals when it comes to the big leagues like the Derby. Calvin Borel proved me right by crying a lot, which I don't think he'd be able to do if he was tweeking. Calvin won again, and Fletcher got his first Derby win, and the horse named Dublin did not win which was sad because that is totally a great Triple Crown Winner name, whereas Super Saver makes everyone in the team's hats look like they work at a dollar store. It was a good win though.
I have officially renamed West Park Station, the bar populated blocks near my house, Douchebag Station. I know douchebag is SO over, but so are all those people, so it still fits. Sitting outside the bar after the race, I listened to the same gel-curled girl explain to her guy friends, all of whom had knee braces on and some sort of jerseys, that:
- her mom was mad she was not getting married by 25
- she had better put off getting her masters and have kids now, because if she has them after 25, they'll be unhealthy
- her sister's husband is gay because he bought her a mani-pedi and knew what that was, also because he took off work to help his little sister shop for a prom dress. (to which one of the boys said "of course he's gay, he lives in Lakewood". In West Park they said this. Like, 2 blocks from the border of Lakewood.)
Then we watched the Cavs game at a wine bar, and it was super close and we left before the end, but stopped at a store to buy cigarettes and watched the final minutes of the game with the store owners on the little tv behind the counter, and everyone cheered when they won, including me, who may have jumped up and down a little. I can get really into the end of basketball games. Not so much the beginning though. I like belonging to the winners.
Also, though I haven't watched it yet, Mayweather bested Mosley, which apparently wasn't supposed to happen.
So yesterday was all about competitions, and I think that fits right along with Workers Day and birthdays. Cause that's what this is all about right, competing every day to get something right, to make more money, to have a better life, to win something you're not supposed to be able to. Congratulations! You've won another year of your life. You've won one step in a championship. You've beaten a record. You've proved you're not old and used up yet. May 1st is Winner's Day. Congratulations for choosing to be a player in this whole crazy set up. Someone should make you some cookies.
It may be me, because I finally got a new(er) stove yesterday. Oh the joys of a working oven! Win!
Thanks Bridge. I spent yesterday hungover though, I didn't help any immigrants. Whatever, they're a pretty self-sufficient bunch.
ReplyDeleteAw, so it was kinda like last year then :)
ReplyDeleteIt's okay. Arizona is apparently going to go rogue and then maybe we can just give them back to Mexico or something.
I agree with all of this. I would totally watch the derby, the last 5 minutes of basketball, AT A WINE BAR, and, and boxing with you. I've been trying to think of a new, but equally fitting, word to replace douchebag. It's hard. It's just so *right*
ReplyDelete