So, my 21st birthday is coming up and after 21 years and nine months of anticipation I will now be able to stay in hotel rooms all by myself! I guess the permission from the government to purchase and consume alcoholic beverages is somewhat convenient also.
No, OK, so obviously I’m totally stoked brah to be able to walk into the most dreamiest of classy-ass joints, belly up to the bar and ask for a martini…and then to subsequently spit that martini out everywhere because martinis are straight gin and my body and all my taste buds and brain cells will be like “hell nah.” But it’s the experience, you know?
All jokes aside, of course I’m planning on having a nice dinner with my closest honey boo boos, ordering my first alcoholic beverage, walking back to my home, and sleeping in my bed. (I’m sorry I reference my bed so much…but I’ll never stop.)
Seeing as my birthday falls in the middle of the week, my parents came down on my birthday to spoil me rotten. I am totally the luckiest kid. Before their arrival, my mom asked me for a birthday list to help her pick out the most optimal adult 21 gift for my sophisticated, drunk fiesta birthday. I won’t go into all of the details of that list, because if you have read any of my articles you know full well that I had every god-forsaken season of “The Golden Girls” written in blood on that list.
However, here’s what I scored: two of those tiny bottles of alcohol that are really only appropriate for when your pretty sure you’re plane is going to crash over the Gulf of Mexico (carry on staples), little napkins with one of those 1950’s housewives on it saying “You are what you drink!” (in case of emergency 35 year old combination cocktail/jewelry/lotion/candle parties) and the crowning jewel of it all: a stuffed Nala from “The Lion King.”
Yes, one night a few weeks ago when I was home for the weekend, my mom, my aunt and I hit up Target for some late night shopping. After they both literally wet their pants trying to try on nighties over their clothes in the middle of the store, we headed over to the toy isle. There she was: my Nala. She’s such a nice Nala. OK, for real though, she’s so friggen soft, and so melt-your-five-year-old-heart cute.
So as I walked around Target clutching this stuffed Disney character, I thought, “Should I be clutching a handle of Svedka?” Obviously the answer is no because handles of Svedka with soft lil’ lion cub ears are becoming increasingly hard to find. The only Disney store that still stocks them is the one in Times Square.
After all my blessings and stroking my new toy for about 10 minutes at the restaurant while dodging the alarmed looks from our waitress, we headed to the zoo for even cleaner family fun (if you don’t count the camel in heat).
Once there, I ran ahead of my parents and yelled “LOOK OMG” at every single animal and then expressed sore disappointment when one of them had to go inside to eat dinner or be warm or something. My ridiculousness was fueled, yes, by my annoying nature, but also by a cupcake and the seven layers of frosting on top of it that I ate right before we got to the zoo. It was trick-or-treat day at Vilas Zoo, so, as you might imagine, I had to shove little princesses and Buzz Lightyears out of my way just to get a good look at the chimps. Needless to say, I got zero play-date invitations for after school tomorrow.
I, drunk with sugar and stuffed Disney Nala bliss, drift off to a sleep land that only a 5 year old can really, truly appreciate. Happy Birthday, self, you shame to the American dream of 21-year-old shwastedness.
Wish Jacklin had invited you to her roarin’ (get it?) 21st birthday? Send her your thoughts at Bolduan@wisc.edu.
