For my birthday this year, my friend Andre got me a giant mylar Unicorn balloon. I went apeshit. It's still in my kitchen, and part of me (now you know which part) wants to take it to a party supply store and have them re-inflate it.
Robert: "Here, we should get the roasted garlic hummus."
Me: "No! We shouldn't get anything with garlic in it, in case people want to make out."
Robert: (incredulously) "I don't think it's gonna be that kinda crowd."
I love romantic comedies. Sure, this could also make me a sad woman - but that doesn't change the fact that I will cry without fail every time I watch Bridget Jones's Diary or The Holiday. You know, because I really feel like I can relate to one puffy, fake brit as well as a sassy, talented one.
Once while driving home on the freeway with the windows down, a school bus full of middle schoolers heard/saw me rocking out to my (then) favorite song of the moment - "What Time Is It?", the opening number from High School Musical 2. They cheered and a few of them gave me the peace sign. I threw it back at them and sped past, feeling like the coolest person ever.
I could go on, but frankly anything more would just be a little embarassing. Not for me to admit, but for you to read. Thank the gods I don't behave like a teenage girl all the time, but just enough so that I can accept it and own it. Part of the charm of me, really. I'm like a kaboodles full of all the knowledge you didn't think you had to grasp, being over the age of 16. Thankfully I can also tell you a lot about drinking, sex, and maybe even politics. But right now you'll have to excuse me, I have to go talk to Rob about last night's Gossip Girl before we watch 90210...that Mr. Matthews is so dreamy!