Please note the Tom Cruise tribute t-shirt (it says “Negative ghostrider, the pattern is full”), the Scientology necklace and the alien messenger bag. Too heavy handed? Probably. So I actually wore my best ‘trust worthy yuppie’ outfit.
1) A slick and friendly little Toyota Yaris
Stupid vintage Saab! We have tangled for the last time. Being cute just isn’t cutting it anymore – you’re always saying passive aggressive shit about my mom and you’re too codependent. It’s over! I’ve been hanging out with this cute little Toyota a lot and I really think it could go somewhere. But let’s still be friends, ‘kay?
Madge, I love you. I don’t even hold that fake British accent against you. Material Girl is one of my all time favorites and I just about lost my mind over the awesomeness of Hung Up. I’ll even go to Chicago for you!
Screw that birthday cake noise, I want a birthday cheese plate. Am I the only person in the world who would get genuinely excited over a subscription to a cheese-of-the-month club?
I love this perfume because it smells like a rich, mysterious, jet-setting cougar. Isn’t that what you want people to think of when they smell you?
5) Tickets to Savannah, GA
To be redeemed during the doldrums of early November. I have never been to Savannah, but I suspect it is rife with romance, history and moss. I want to wear a large hat and high heals and walk with my arm coyly tucked in my Mr’s.
7) The ability to speak and understand any language, instantaneously
I think it’s available through the Neiman Marcus Christmas Book.
What are your birthday wishes?
Like all good Virgos, I knew that any adventure is best undertaken in the appropriate outfit. In a perfect world, I would have worn this:
In reality, I went to the Salvation Army and bought a pair of sweat pants without trying them on. If that’s not going a situation that spells success, I don’t know what is! When I got home, I assembled my not-particularly-awesome outfit of cut-off sweatpants, unflatteringly cut tank top and shell toe Adidas … the Adidas being my only real hope at street cred here.
1) hot instructor who’s helpful, but not skeezy, and doesn’t do that thing where they stop class and stand next to you, teaching you the jazz square while everyone rolls their eyes
2) awesome moves we could use on our next ladies’ night, preferably something slightly slutty
3) no intimidating, professionally trained dancers masquerading as students.The latter point is particularly important, because when it comes to trying new things, I have the emotional maturity of a seven year old. I’m not immediately good at it? It’s kind of challenging? I have to talk to strangers? I’ll probably just sit at the back of the class and sneak out during the break.
But you know what? We rocked it! Or rather, I didn’t totally embarrass myself and stayed through the whole class. I persevered despite nearly falling on my face several times, the instructor spending three minutes trying to teach me (and me exclusively) some serpentine crouching move and having to watch myself crotch thrust in high-waisted pink sweat pants in an entire wall of mirrors.