Well, since my last epinw blogging I turned 40 and before that, the day before, to be très specific, John Lennon's birthday happened.
There was an ultra-fab party tossed in my honor and held at Big Orbit Gallery on John's b-day. While I was talking to some guests I began noting that the artwork on the walls was made by Yours Truly. I looked all around the white walls. All me. It was shocking, a gigantic surprise, a retrospective of sorts. And, as I described to members of Janet Reno Fan Club last night over dinner, like being in a room with several of one's past lovers. Intense. Self-reflexive. And so much more.
To the party I wore a Peach Berserk dress from TO, given to me by an MIA older friend, Marilyn. I have my theory that this very dress is what got the ol' divorce ball rolling in her life: her husband Mark HATED that dress, forbade her to ever wear it again and she presented it to me in a shopping bag, bolero jacket and crinolines and backup dress all in there. What does it look like? An upside down psychedelic phantasmagoric yet somewhat vintage tulip.
During my hungover condition on the 10th, thee 40th b-day day, I had to drive out to my niece's grammar school with cake and soda and cups and the like. Why? Because I did same for nephew on his b-day, my niece and I share a b-day and her mom/my sister forgot to make cupcakes and my niece said That's OK, mom, Auntie will come to school... Auntie always saves the day.
With that kind of familial pressure I loaded me and my champagne-soaked brain into the Forester and trundled off to discover that the school had no idea that I was showing up, DMB shirt on and shopping bags in hands.
The office lady had to speak to the principal and this is where the story gets really interesting, how it illustrates my truest, authority-hating self.
I had to go into the principal's office and stand before him, seated at his desk. A fat and bald man wearing a cheap shirt who had apparently been doing nothing in his office. There was the overarching vibe of non-productivity in that office.
At one point I minorly snapped and said Look, I'm a really busy person. I just drove 45 minutes out here, am I going to get into my niece's classroom... or not? While he blopped off to see the office lady in her office area to give my sister a call I called her myself on her cell phone. Hi. The school doesn't know I am here, I said very very loudly. Mr. Fatso Principal came back into his office, where I was standing and talking. It's OK, go ahead, down the hall to the left, room 111.
For the love of Educational Gods, I didn't have a blanket and rope in my hands. What the fuck? They let teens with guns into schools and not aunts with cake.
For the record I dig being 40. It means being ever-more the real.
If you don't understand this you are too young to know.
I rest my middle-aged ass. I mean case.
Love.