In 1 week, I will turn 22. In honor of it, I've decided to create my perfect day. And none of that stupid, "I'd wake up in Hawaii..." junk. We're keepin' it real. Besides, I don't want to spend my birthday with jet lag.
So....(begin rippling screen dream sequence)
I would wake up LATE. Unfortunately, not next to Roger Federer, because that would be wrong, but he would be in my kitchen making me breakfast or something. Actually, I'd probably go to Waffle House or somewhere just as shady and have a ridiculously greasy breakfast of biscuits and gravy with eggs and bacon and hash browns and pancakes. With real butter. And orange juice and tomato juice. And it would all be calorie-free. Ooooohh, and apple butter would be somewhere in the mix.
By the way, I would probably see to it that there was a soundtrack playing in the background for the day. I've always wanted a soundtrack to my life, and there's no better day to have one than on my birthday, right? From here on out, I will include requested track. (Breakfast would be something like Taylor Swift or Mariah...something made for singing along.)
After breakfast, and because I wouldn't have classes on my birthday, Rog and I would go shopping for a killer dress for my big night. We'd probably go up to Indy in his really fast car, but he would let me drive and pretend to shift gears. And cops wouldn't pull me over, but even if they did, they'd let me off the hook because it was my birthday. It would be an overcast day and we'd be listening to the The Fray or Coldplay's older stuff. Good driving music and good driving weather.
I would have lunch flown in-- paglia e fiena from Yellow Bar, vino di casa from Acqua Due, a burrito and sangria from Eby's, a salad with goat's cheese from The Oil Shoppe (all in Florence), a kebap from some random stand in Valencia, Spain, chicken korma from Brick Lane in London, cashew chicken from Jay's Thai, and waffle fries and sweet tea from Chick-Fil-A. Probably some sushi, too, better get that from Mum's in Long Beach. During lunch I'd have no music, mainly because I'd want to really concentrate on stuffing my face. If there's music I have to sing along, and if I sing along I can't eat as much as fast.
After lunch, I would nap. Then, to work off some of the food, I'd go to the diving well for Lo and we'd search for hair bands. Because it's my birthday, they'd all be no-metal ones. And we would listen to fun music, like Backstreet Boys. After we'd found no less than 14 hair things, we'd dry off and go get ready for that night. My dress would be flattering yet comfortable, my hair would have great volume, I wouldn't cut my legs shaving, and I would figure out how to do my eyeliner so it doesn't smudge all night. While we were getting ready we'd listen to Ne-Yo and Chris Brown and anything else we could dance to.
Dinner would be late, on some twinkly-light lit patio under the stars with all of my best friends and family: those from home, Bloomington buds, Texas gals, girls in London, Italy and Africa...they'd all be there, and everyone would get along beautifully and have a wonderful time. The weather would be somewhat warm, not humid, and there'd be a nice little breeze. And we'd sit and have a long meal with wine and cupcakes and candles and laugh and dance and listen to beautiful voices like Pete Yorn and James Morrison and Michael Buble. Michael might show up, too, and sing. And the Backstreet Boys could make an appearance at any time throughout the day.
Then, I'd fall asleep and would be carried to bed, where someone would put me in comfy clothes, tuck me in, open my window, and turn on a fan.
After lunch, I would nap. Then, to work off some of the food, I'd go to the diving well for Lo and we'd search for hair bands. Because it's my birthday, they'd all be no-metal ones. And we would listen to fun music, like Backstreet Boys. After we'd found no less than 14 hair things, we'd dry off and go get ready for that night. My dress would be flattering yet comfortable, my hair would have great volume, I wouldn't cut my legs shaving, and I would figure out how to do my eyeliner so it doesn't smudge all night. While we were getting ready we'd listen to Ne-Yo and Chris Brown and anything else we could dance to.
Dinner would be late, on some twinkly-light lit patio under the stars with all of my best friends and family: those from home, Bloomington buds, Texas gals, girls in London, Italy and Africa...they'd all be there, and everyone would get along beautifully and have a wonderful time. The weather would be somewhat warm, not humid, and there'd be a nice little breeze. And we'd sit and have a long meal with wine and cupcakes and candles and laugh and dance and listen to beautiful voices like Pete Yorn and James Morrison and Michael Buble. Michael might show up, too, and sing. And the Backstreet Boys could make an appearance at any time throughout the day.
Then, I'd fall asleep and would be carried to bed, where someone would put me in comfy clothes, tuck me in, open my window, and turn on a fan.
1 comment:
that really is quite perfect!! minus the hair thingy searching which is just sick, and i'm surprised lo even likes that pass time given her touchy aversion to certain types of hair. fyi, i think my eyes are permanently damaged from reading the white on black words. its never bothered me before but now, everywhere i look i see lines...
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