Happy thanksgiving America. Not my favorite holiday (the whole slaughtering an innocent nation of people… I don’t know), but absolutely my favorite meal. I am just chilling in Rome alone- no celebrations no nada. Just a chill night at home with the cats.
My birthday, on the other hand was, awesome.
My near and dear Zoe George took me out and we had a fucking blast. We just wandered around Rome creating havoc- going from bar to bar, restaurant to restaurant- drinking champagne, popping balloons, lighting fireworks, jumping on monuments, tried to steal a golf cart… (foiled unfortunately)… it was absurdly fun. I spent a lot of the day on the phone- thank you all for calling and emailing me- no shit, it was an impressive turnout- birthdays always make me feel loved when I get so many calls… (and some random ones too- how about my babysitter from when I was like 5 called to say Happy 30th… amazing).
Anyway- my first day of my 30’s was, ahem, not so fun. It was just like my 20’s only the hangover was much much worse.
It literally happened overnight. I’m gonna go right ahead and say in the TOP 5 bad hangovers of all time. Actually, fuck that- it’s number 2. (there was one other really bad day- but I was in Aspen and there was some altitude lack of oxygen element that really fucked that one up…) this one was just pure and simply brutal.
Anyway… I suppose the long hard road of old age has officially begun… I’ll begin saying things like “oh, there goes my back again” and “why I remember when I was a kid, we used to write our letters BY HAND” Fuck man. All that “your only old in your mind” shit is- well shit. I live like an 18 year old, but I get hung over like a 30 year old. That shit ain’t fair.
Anyway-
One good story for you today. Took the cats to the vet for their health cert so they can fly next week, and couldn’t get a taxi home. 5:30 rush hour, called for one twice, couldn’t hail one on the street- BRUTALLY cold. Waited for so long- but the cats were cold, and so was I, so I said fuck it, and walked. 20 minutes. Uphill. With the two cats. Sucked. Now, for those of you who have met Peter, you know, he’s like, well, if my brother was a cat… or say, an SUV perhaps. HE’S FUCKING ENORMOUS, he’s the better part of 20 pounds, and while Sally is comparably small, at a mere 11 pounds- put that together, and that’s a whole lot of pussy to be dragging down the street. It totally sucked. But it made thankful. For taxis, and cars, and free rides, and heat, and having another person in your life from time to time to help carry the weight.
And I’ve been in Rome for a year without these things. All these things I so took for granted. And today, maybe truly for the first time ever. I really was grateful, that so so soon- it will all be back in my life.
Ci vidiamo dopo.
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