Way to show me up, you damn box

Queen Kitschy and Proud

On Friday I turned 37.  This birthday has felt a little weird; the number 37 seems, somehow, a lot older than 34, 35, or 36.  I’m suddenly much closer to being a 40 something.  And that feels weird.  Mainly because inside I still feel 28.  (Sometimes even 24!)  

My joints are laughing hysterically as I type that.  

Despite the fact that for my birthday (and appropriate to my age) we didn’t do a whole lot – went to the farmer’s market, bummed around the house, had a nap then a nice dinner; pretty much how my grandparents celebrate special days – there are a few reasons I still feel pretty young.  And all of those centered around presents!  (you shallow bitch)

Behold!  My new drum stool!!  Ooh ah!

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Aint it fancy?  It’s soooo cushy for my geriatric tush! 

And… what I’ve been sitting on the last eight months.  (Yep, my ass on the drain doctor.)

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My drum set… wait, have I told you about my drum set?  My drum set is a twice-removed-used set that my brother has lent me that he got from my parents (where it was either given to them by a friend or they bought it at a garage sale – it’s all a little confusing).  The set was (is) beat up and missing a bunch of parts and my brother scraped it back together.  It’s from the 70s and it was featured in a country band.  (I don’t know why I feel compelled to share that.)  It’s also almost so ugly it’s cool.  But not quite.  Which means it’s just ugly.  (Maybe I should bedazzle it?)

 

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 The whole kitschy ensemble being rocked by my boy.

 

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And last but not least, this super sweet corset given to me by my lovely husband (who also gave me the drum stool).  I heart corsets.  If I was a rock goddess I would wear this on stage.  In real life, I’ll just wear it out to a club. (I’m going clubbing again, someday.  I swear!)

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Oh, bless you artificial trappings of youth.   (Thanks Keen!)

              - wg

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