That's right, I have crossed that portal, that momentous space in time where everything changes and yet remains the same.Sí Señor, that's right: I have just waltzed (more like stumbled drunkedly, actually, I'm no ballerina) into the second decade of my young life.
He cumplido veinte años....
I have gone from teen to twenty just like that, as easy as waking up thanks to my family's less that harmonic screeching -, er, singing - to blow the matches (por alguna razon mi familia siempre compra un pastel de merengue de limón en Sanborns, pero no puede comprar las velas que deberían de venir con él) off my b-day cake.
Nada grande, como siempre, terminé deprimida al final.
And how could I not? I had to go to work, then my mom invited my boss and her friends (but please note that none of my own friends) to my dinner and I missed my dad so badly I felt raw and near tears for hours, but I couldn´t just go off to a quiet corner and sob quietly to myself because it was my celebration and I had to be there. How utterly convenient.
Me regalaron varias cosas, algunas útiles y otras no tanto.
I got a new cell that takes pictures and records amazingly short videos, the Californication CD, lipstick, a new pink handbag, sunglasses, a chinese style handbag and a silver ring with swarovski crystals.
All in all, I would have rather skipped the whole b-day experience and woefully moped by myself, dressed in pijamas, while looking at pictures of my dad.
Papá, te extraño lo indecible...
Y ya empezó la tortura china mejor conocida como regreso a clases.
I have the bitchiest teachers around (¿cómo que tarea ches perros? quiero dormir, ¡Es la primera semana por el amor del santo enmascarado de plata!) who nicely and politely reminded me that yes, I am ignorant, and no, I will not breeze through class no matter how cheap I sell my dear friends (palmera and angelito) to them.
Class changes are going to be simply horrid, I know. It´s worse to know that Slut No. 1 and No. 2 (who do happen to be good friends of mine, no me malinterpreten...) managed to get into the classed they wanted just because someone wants to get hot and heavy with one of them. Sweet, lovely justice and equality for all (the ones with ample cleavage, that is).
Sarandeada, my beloved, sweet, bestest of all friends (to be read with large, puppy-dog eyes in mind), is being a true perra to all left and right. Palmeris and I have no clue what we did to unleash her raw anger in such a catty way.
La vida es un vil asco. Cuando tengan la oportunidad me atropellan, ¿va?.
Poli.
No comments:
Post a Comment