At 25, I am the prime of my life. Apparently it all goes downhill after this. So last night found me with a plethora of options. What to do, what to do…
1. Dig out those high heels from the back of our (newly cleaned) closet, find that hottie-tottie black skirt, get that stunning top and call up my gal pals. Our plan is to find ourselves in a hip, new restaurant. We’ll dine, sips on libations and gossip the night away! Amid the sparkles and glam, I’ll take a step back and recognize the deliciously scandalous life I lead.
2. Spend the night at the black tie event being held downtown. The new art gallery opening has left people scrambling to get there in time. As the champagne pours, the intellectuals gather around a piece that they find truly riveting. We chat; there are cheese cubes. Life is good.
In reality, I ate warm brownies tofu squares and watched various shows on Lifetime, BET, and A&E. In between that, I read a fluffy, fun book (Shopaholic Takes Manhattan) and thought about how much easier my life is than the effort to be a socialite. My #1 fear has been eraticated (mostly), for the chances of me dying alone in my house and having my pug eat my cold body are fairly slim, so I’m satisfied.
Besides, I can’t beat the satisfaction of having watched folks way screwy than me. If you ever feel down about yourself- watch My Strange Addiction. No matter how self-depricating and depressed I feel, I can always feel better that I am not the Laundry Detergant Eater, Real Doll Lover, or Couch Cushion Consumer.
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