I Turned 23? Are You Sure?

My 23rd birthday was kind of a blur. And by that, I mean that I drank myself into a stupor long before my party started.

Less than a year out of college, and my pal Mark and I were stoked that Daddy gave me a keg for my birthday. So excited, in fact, that Mark came over 3 hours before the party started to help me tap the keg.

Of course, with a big keg like that, we couldn’t just let it sit there. So we started drinking…

A few hours later, my first set of guests arrived. The party was essentially an open house pool party, in which guests came and went, swam or didn’t, drank, ate (I think), and enjoyed the merriment. When the first set of guests arrived, I was, at least, still coherent.

As this was long before my catering days, and my experience with being a good hostess including offering a variety of booze for my guests to sample, I had made a fancy fruity punch, but didn’t really have a lot in the way of food. We had burgers and hot dogs from Flaherty’s (my family’s bar), but not much else. Mark was in charge of grilling.

You can see where this is going.

So we did get hungry, and made some burgers and dogs for everyone at about 2:30… but that was the last I remember regarding food.

The party started hoppin’ and I ended up in the pool. Instead of continuing with the beer drinking, I switched to Vodka. Let me tell you right now. Vodka and the sun do. not. mix. ever. Also, never let other people make your drinks. I believe that I was drinking Vodka and club soda, and boy were there strong.

By about 4:30 (I’m told), Mark was passed out in my bed. I followed shortly, though my passing out happened on the bathroom floor.

I woke up several hours later, to discover a slew of new guest arrivals in my living room, others outside in the pool, and me groggy with a hint of drunkover (the point where you’re still drunk, but feeling the hangover).

After conversing with the guests, I discovered several who had come and gone during my ‘party break’ time. Those remaining were the out-of-town guests who came up to party with me…Of course, I was a mess and certainly done drinking. But the way I see it, it’s better than the 22nd birthday, in which two friends showed up, and we went to see Ratatouille (OK that was cool in its own right).


Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

This One Goes Out to the Chubby Girls

Pushing 30

Can you write a memoir before age 30? Hell yes, you can. Especially when it sure as hell beats staring in the mirror at all of my silver gray hairs and attempting to pluck them from my head. Every. Single. Time. Seriously. It’s that serious. Sometimes, I stare in the mirror for 15 minutes in an effort to rid myself of the aging process.

As the way of the world is now digital, why go through all of the trouble of writing everything, then waiting months or even years for it to get published (if it ever gets published) when I can do it right here, right now. Whenever I freaking want to. Plus there’s no editor telling me I use too many commas. I like my commas. I like commas. And periods. And starting sentences with the word, “and.” Unless, of course, some wonderful publisher happens upon this blog and wants to publish my stuff. Then I would probably be willing to modify the use of  commas and all of the other concessions that we could discuss. I’m down. (I want to whisper “call me” and point to an invisible phone in my hand).

Pushing 30-Call Me

Call Me!

Besides, as I begin my written journey, I’m currently unemployed (thanks to a certain company that I used to be employed by) and I need something a little more practical than Bloons Tower Defense 5, Solitaire Blitz, and Plants Vs. Zombies to use up the time that I’m not spending hunting for the perfect copywriting job and writing a little freelance copy.

So I’ll start with the important stuff. About me. And my chubby childhood. (OK and my chubby adulthood). Ok, let’s just go with this blog. And why I’m writing it. This year I will literally be pushing thirty. As May 30 is now here, I will begin the final year of my twenties. My 30th birthday, coming in 2013, will also be a celebration of my golden birthday. I remember when it seemed like an eternity away (when 30 WASN’T my scary age), but now it just seems like it’s coming much too quickly. With almost 30 years of stories and memories: some sad, some happy, some strange, some a little drunk, and some just perfect, I’ve got quite enough to write until my thirtieth birthday.

I spent the better part of my childhood as the fat kid, and even though I eventually grew into my own skin, I still sometimes feel like the fat kid. I know, I know…I’m not supposed to say “fat,” but really, that’s what I know. Not to worry, a few months of Weight Watchers and I’m on the right track to greatness (and my ideal weight/size–which will not render me twig-like scout’s honor) and will of course lead to that ideal weight by the aforementioned 30th birthday.

I’ll be honest; I’ve never seen a blog through to completion. My longest running blogs were a personal daily blog on gasp Myspace and a foodie blog, which documents my love affair with breakfast. Neither of which are currently in production. Maybe I’ll be adding to the breakfast blog of joy soon. We’ll see.

Anyways, I’m very much looking forward to sharing my life with the world, and hope that you enjoy the journey as much as I do. As a side note, all names have been changed to protect the guilty…or the innocent…or me. So if you’re reading this…and you know the story is about you…relax. No one else does.

Until tomorrow,


Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!