Well bless the gods! Old Slick made to live yet another year on planet earth--holy-lewjah saints!
I awakened this morning with a tiny smile on my face. Despite my mania, and misanthropic thoughts--I was genuinely touched to see my phone filled with birthday texts. My voicemail was 90% full by 10am and my face book page is filled with "Happy Birthday's."
I'm currently sitting in one of my favorite places on the the planet. The Pacific Design Center in West Hollywood. If you have no idea what the hell that is, it's my 40 acres and a mule. A huge building---well 3-4 interconnected buildings with some of the best interior design in the world. I've also seen great art here. There's an exhibition of portraitist Sacha Newley featuring Dominick Dunne, Joan Collins, and Gore Vidal. Tres chic darling. At this very moment there is a titty imprint on the window of Ernesto Meda Design. I left the boob fossil to mark my territory. They have my ideal kitchen, and by the hammer of Thor I will get it! It's sleek with wood, an island range top, with book shelves---glass cabinetry to display all the wine glasses---more book shelves and a wine rack 12 ft high. Who cares about food, when you have liquor and books?
It didn't really occur to me until this very moment, what a rich and fulfilling life I've led so far. Here I am, still a young-ish woman, foolishly thinking "Man, why can't I afford this $70,000 bidet? I suck. I'm a loser. I deserve this ass washing contraption. Why have I been so careless with money?! I want this bidet made of slave trader teeth and hand crafted by poor children in some developing nation right now! Wah wah wah."
Then it hit me.
Wait a minute you little shit, you've traveled the world, have been privy to the works of brilliant artists, and can steal from the rich like a bandit in the Thomas Crowne Affair. Life ain't over girl! You can still make your bazillions. You know how to eat the rich. I mean, c'mon! I'm using their free wi-fi right now! And by the time I'm done blogging someone will have offered me champagne. Cuz I look like I belong here. I'm wearing my good bra, my hair is combed, and I clutch my purse everytime I pass a person of color. I peep your game rich fuckers. I've been to Monte Carlo, Paris, Nice--and have had enough bourgeois Negro women lead me to the path of righteousness. You don't fool me for one minute. I will get my dream kitchen.
So comrades, I thank you for your birthday wishes, and your encouragement. Its taken me a couple of decades--okay a few decades, to accept I am who I am. I'm a classy broad with refined tastes. So when I blow out my candles, my wish will be to forever have my ass washed by a bidet made of slave catchers' teeth.
next blog: HOW BIRTHDAYS CAN AGE YOU. THE SHOCKING DETAILS.