humans are funny

Category: turning 30

  • I’m naked.

    Yeah. It’s true. I’m writing this naked. I’m telling you this not in an aw-yeah-baby-I’m-naked kinda way, but in more of a yippee-I’m-untethered-by-clothes kinda way. More than that, I’m also poolside, eating a monstrous slice of melting red velvet cake, and reading a gossip magazine under the fluttering hummingbirds and spotlight sun of serene Palm Springs.

    This is what turning 30 is all about: A birthday suit in a private yard. No one can see me. And nobody knows that my ass is red not only from the sun but from 10-12 high-intensity cannon balls (Incidentally, I did not actually wake up in a cannon; I simply performed skilled cannon-like jumps into the deep end.).

    I deserve this because this is where I spent my birthday last year: asleep on a cement bed under a mosquito net, not even allowed to be naked in the shower (monks can be such a drag sometimes). But now I’m balls out. And that’s what life is all about. Hey! Finally I’m making a contribution to quote boards throughout the internet: ‘Balls out. It’s what life is all about.’ Spread the word. Please.

    What life is not about is whining. And I must apologize for being so whiney about entering this 4th decade of life. I hate those girls I occasionally meet in bars who say, ‘Oh my Gawd! I’m totally turning 21 tonight! I’m so old.’ And now I see I’ve been doing the same. So, I apologize. But not really. Because turning 30 is a big friggin deal and deserves nudity and cake. Balls out, baby. Balls out.


    Note: I was not Nudey McNudle when my friends were here. That would have been awkward.

    Please note: ‘Balls out’ is merely an expression. I do not actually have balls.

    Also note: Meredith Buzas shot this amazing promo photo for Fox’s newest show, ‘I want to get naked in front of my friends but it might be awkward because we’re really comfortable with each other but mainly boob comfortable and not vagina comfortable yet.’

  • It’s here. F.


    I’m about to enter the fourth decade of my life. Tomorrow. TOMORROW!

    I have tried unsuccessfully to halt time with my mind power. Remember how I wrote here about how it’s really no big deal and I’m ready to embrace it? Well, I changed my mind. I’m suddenly uncomfortable with the thought. I know: It’s just a number. And everyone who lives to at least 31 goes through it. But I’ve noticed a few things happening to me that nobody else seems to be talking about. Those who hit 30 don’t tell the whole story. It’s like the birthing process. After you have gone through it, you say, ‘Oh, it’s not so bad after all. Tee hee hee.’ But that’s because you’re blinded by a cute little baby and plenty of drugs. So you keep mum about the fact that you laid out a hot turd on the table, and then your friend freaks out because she thinks she’s disgusting when she lays out a hot turd on the table. Guys, we gotta tell each other this stuff. For each other. For mankind.

    So here are some things that have been happening to me…Er, I mean… They’re happening to a friend of mine. And I heard about them. So I am going to just pass them on. For the children:

    1. Random hairs. Thankfully, I am not a man, so they aren’t yet coming out of my ears. But they are popping up in the most random spots. I pulled a big black one from my stomach right now. And another off my chin yesterday. My chin. I mean, my friend did that. Yeah, not me.

    2. Adult acne. We’ve covered this. I read up on it. Estrogen levels begin to drop at 29.5, according to Marie Claire. Great. Lovely. Thanks.

    3. Bones. Whenever my right knee bends, it sounds like a newborn chick is crunching itself out of its shell and vomiting. Yes, that’s exactly the sound.

    4. Metabolism. I used to wish myself skinny, and I’d be skinny. Now, my hips just grow.

    5. Cellulite. Yep. There’s more of it. Either it’s because I’m getting older or perhaps it’s because I spent the last year eating absolutely anything I wanted. I mean, that’s what my friend did. And said.

    6. Brain. I claim to be such a grammar and spelling stickler but lately that shit comes out all wrong. I spelled ‘zoo’ z-e-w the other day. Zew? Is that a gross version of the zoo?

    Ok, so there. It’s out there. Unlike those before me, I have laid it all out for those who come after: 6 reasons why 30 IS BAD despite the fact that everyone says it’s not so bad.

    Time for the positive spin. Because that’s who I’ve become in this old age: a quite positive gal. Thankfully I didn’t become a janitor or ice cream man, the two professions in which I hoped to succeed back when my 8-yr-old self was dreaming about my 30-yr-old self. Ice cream man would have required a sex change, and I’m saving that until at least 55 (I want to get as much vagina action as possible beforehand). Oh yeah, positive spin: Six reasons I am ecstatic about turning 30:

    1. I don’t have to go to any more tailgates, red cup parties, or beer pong events. Sure, thirty-yr-olds do those things. But I don’t like standing around, getting wasted, spilling beer on myself, and talking about sports or who I know. I’ve never really liked it, and everyone’s always given me shit about not partaking. Now that I’m thirty, I finally qualify for the ‘too old for that shit’ excuse.

    2. By now, I have learned to trust myself. Phew. What a relief. Life’s gonna be just fine (And if it isn’t, I have a new theory about what happens after life; I’ll get to this some day when we have more time and we’re a little tipsy and it seems like there’s nothing else to talk about.).

    3. The next ten years are filled with absolute possibility. I’m reading a choose-your-own-adventure, and the amount of adventure before me is overwhelming in the best possible way. Shit’s gonna happen, y’all.

    4. Thirty is serious. People will hear that I’ve made it into the secret club of thirty and really want to take me seriously. Maybe, you know, someone might say… “Hey, Laurenne. You’re 30. You want to write for the Sarah Silverman show?” or perhaps, “Wow! You’re 30? I’m a literary agent, and I’ve been looking for a thirty-yr-old to write a very popular book series that will lead to movies and action figures.”

    5. I’ve been contributing quite nicely to social security for 16 years. I’m not rich, but it’s nice that I no longer have to share a bed with five girls when we go on vacation or ask for a cup for water and then fill it with Coke or say, ‘Well, your tacos were two dollars more than mine’ when splitting a bill or ask friends for gas money. Finances of the early twenties sucked.

    6. I have been alive 10,950 days. That’s some serious experience up in this here noggin. I have heard, read, seen, smelled, and touched a whole lotta stuff. I know what’s up. Yep, I know what’s up.

    After all, I guess 30 is cool. What up, Thirty? How are you today? Come on in. I accept you and all that you are. Except for the chin hairs and cellulite. Please. Give those to Forty, and we’ll be all good.

  • Not cool. So not cool.

    After an evening of country music at an 85th birthday party this weekend, I parked my car on Beverly Blvd. It was 11pm. I wouldn’t get out. I had driven 10 mph for the last 20 minutes… prolonging the drive as much as I could so I could just delay the entrance to my friend’s get-together. It wasn’t the fear of heading alone into a party that was causing such delay. Oh no… I would prefer if it were. Instead, it was the Nathan Lane/Short lady who does Lisa Simpon’s voice version of The Odd Couple. NPR was broadcasting, and I, entranced by the story, was glued to my car seat. Let me say it again: I was listening to a play on the radio. And I was enjoying it so much that I delayed my entrance to a party full of boys and alcohol. To listen to a play. I had just come from an 85th birthday, I was listening to a play on the radio, and I had even clipped a coupon out of the newspaper that morning.

    ACT 1 had ended while I was driving, and I had gasped in fear because I couldn’t stand the suspense. Would Felix ever let go of his neurosis? Would that other guy ever get to go on a date? I couldn’t wait! I almost went to my trusty iPhone to find out, but good old NPR pulled through and began ACT 2 almost immediately. Phew. I’d broken a sweat of despair. But as I sat parked outside the party, I finally realized: I AM LISTENING TO A PLAY!

    I decided I needed to enter said party instantly in order to salvage the bit of cool I had in me. So I deserted Felix and the other guy and marched right in… but things didn’t improve. The guest of honor had his sweater tied around his neck like a tennis pro. It went something like this:

    ME: Nice sweater tied around your shoulders.

    OTHER GUY: Yeah. You look like you’re straight out of Vampire Weekend.

    ME: Oh, I’ve never seen that. Is it good?

    OTHER GUY: Um, it’s a band.

    ME: Oh.

    Awkward silence.

    ME: So… you ever listen to The Odd Couple?

    It was then that I realized I’m not cool. I’m just not. I have no clue who is Vampire Weekend. I have no interest in looking up who is Vampire Weekend. And that is ok. I’m actually pretty cool with not being cool. I can’t even think of a synonym for ‘cool’ besides ‘hip.’ More evidence that I’m neither.

    Now that it’s all out in the open, I might as well admit:

    *I don’t like Radiohead. Sorry. I tried.
    *I don’t have a TV (And I only stream episodes of Jersey Shore and 30 Rock).
    *I wear skinny jeans but not because they’re in style. Strictly because they make my butt look better, which means I will be wearing them long after they are out of style. Sorry, future kids.
    *I’m currently reading a book on how to harness the power of your chakras.
    *I sometimes eat cereal in bed.
    *I refuse to spend more than $50 on any article of clothing. Ok, more like $30.
    *This is my favorite song of all time:

    *I love socks with hearts on them.
    *My favorite past time is finding grammatical errors on signs.
    *I still need a bedtime story to fall asleep.
    *I think bars are too loud. If you want to hang out, let’s go to dinner.
    *I’d rather stay home and write/make something with construction paper/discuss the effect of ants on erosion than stand in line to get into a dance club.
    *I do not understand anyone who spends a bunch of money on a designer purse.
    *I sometimes think movies are a waste of time.
    *I would not be able to recognize Justin Bieber if he sat next to me on a plane.

    Just as I wrote ‘Justin Bieber,’ I realized that I have become my mother. Days before I turn 30 and it’s already happening. I am now just like the woman who watches TV at a volume so loud that deaf people in Texas can hear. But I think she’s cool. I’m the one person. So, it’s not so bad. Who’s down for some water aerobics?