After pottery painting (at Our Name Is Mud, did I mention that? Visit their site! They kick ass!), we headed over to dinner at a restaurant in the West Village called Lips. For those who don't know, it's a restaurant that's owned, operated, staffed, and entertained by drag queens. We had a blast! Our waitress, Sable, crowned me Miss America - music, crown and all - because it was my birthday. How cool is that?!? The food & drinks were excellent, the entertainment rocked, and my friends (above all) were hysterical. My friend Larry (one of the funniest people I know) kept making the best comments during the performances. When the first queen came out to do her show, Larry stood up and said, "Mom?!?!?" A couple of performances later, he leaned over to me and whispered, "I … I may be wrong here, but… well… I think … I think that's a man." We were dying. And my friends, bless them all … they got me the most fantastic, thoughtful gifts. Deb wrote out a beautiful certificate for me to commission a piece of her artwork; Gabe gave me "She-Bop," which I've wanted to read for a while; Steph had a Polaroid I-zone camera (the one that makes the fun little stickers) messengered to me because she couldn't make it; Jenn went a LITTLE overboard and gave me a bag of lots o' goodies; Jonathan - "White Trash Cookbook" complete with recipes for Fluffernutter sandwiches and possum stew. (One never forgets their roots, *sigh*)…
And all of this was orchestrated (with the help of our friends, to quote the Beatles) by my guy, The Boy, the coolest guy on earth. He also got me some kick-ass presents on top of (as it turns out) taking the day off from work so he could find the places we were going and not get lost, organizing my friends (not a task for the weak-hearted), and generally treating me like the little princess I feel I deserve to be on my birthday. Along with the numerous books, gadgets and toys, he got me a beautiful digital camera, something I've wanted for a long time, but haven't been able to afford. And he knew that. And he got it. And I've been taking the silliest pictures ever since. Look for my "Artsy-Fartsy Fotos" soon.
In any case, that was the actual day of my birthday. I was thinking a lot about it, tho. It was great not only because we did cool things, but I was with people who are my family in this city. I felt - as goofy as I think this sounds - at one with the cosmos, man. People kept asking me if I felt old yet. "Don't worry, it'll happen." And truth be told, no, I don't feel old. I feel certainly a little wiser, but not old. I don't know if I'll be capable of feeling old. It's weird. I look back at the short lifetime I've lived already, and I see all the things I've done and accomplished. I look at the lives I've touched, for better or worse. I look at my growth, and compare myself to where I was 5, 3, even 1 year ago. (I'm an inch taller. No, seriously…) I feel the difficulty and hardship, the internal battle that has been happening inside my head since I can remember, but it feels distant. That feels old, but I don't. I feel OK. I feel happy. I'm 25. Welcome to the Quarter-Century Club.
In other news, I have this little obsession problem going on again. It's… well, as many of you know, it's the Ani Difranco thing again. OK, I don't really have a problem, I just really, really like going to her shows. It's always the best live performance ever, only slightly ahead of a Barenaked Ladies concert. So, over the past several years, I've been to seven shows; I'm going to see three more this year alone. Next month, I'm flying to Miami to visit Gina (yeaaaahhhhahahahahahah) and see a show, and then my merry band of groupies and I are hitting the two New York City shows in November. Oh, man, it is so worth it. Such amazing live shows. Catch one if you can.
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