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First off thanks to my mother for waking me up at 7:30am to hear the Lite, 93.9, wish me a Happy Birthday from her. Although, they messed it up and said my last name like it was spelled Armalie. Then they were supposed
to say it was to "a wonderful daughter who is also my best friend" from my mom. They just said it was from my best friend, "Lauren." Somewhat funny though because my best friend in junior high and the first year or so of high school was named Lauren and I haven't talked to her
in about four years, haven't seen her in about five. So, that is somewhat funny...oh well... Second, my birthday message to you all...
Posted Friday, June 9th, 2000 at 12am
Happy Birthday To Me
Yes, the day has finally come. My Birthday! Hells yeah! I have never, as far as I can remember, been this excited about a birthday. I’d say I was excited about my sixteenth, but I knew I wasn’t getting my license for a while because I had yet to finish my driver’s education classes. Anyways, here it is, June 9th. The day my own dad often forgets. Many times he’d be filling out paperwork and need my birth date. It was a good thing if he could at least say June. I remember particularly when he hit that guy on a bike (good story by the way if you have time) and I was the only witness being in the car. The cop asked him for my name and birth date, and he stumbled, couldn’t remember his own daughter’s birthday. So the cop insisted he ask me himself. Good thing because I do remember my own birthday.
The magic number is 69. I’m glad I didn’t come to appreciate that, or realize it, until I could truly understand it. Ever since, it’s been a joke with friends and it will continued to be a joke. I hope at age 70, I’ll still be able to snicker when I say, “My birthday is 6-9.” Jackie told me that it being my birthday, I could do and have whatever I want. I was excited to hear that, but disappointed when she insisted that Kevin was off-limits. Damnit! Ha ha. I actually did not even consider that.
So, for my twentieth birthday, marking the start of a new age group, no longer a teenager, I have decided to make a pact with myself; set a few rules and guidelines. I sure hope I can follow them. Here it goes:
1. What the …Bleep, bleep, bleep.
2. Money matters.
3. Stop the violence!
4. Do something
5. Get back to my roots.
6. Goodbye...
Yes, you may not believe me, but I am saying Goodbye to him. The precious Kevin Richardson. Rumor has it that the man is now married. I always had the line “It ain’t legal.” Well, now it just may be legal. And, I must let go. I was torn from the sane world for about a year now. It was about this time last year that I ventured into the Internet looking for the Backstreet Boys and it is great timing to leave. I believe I will still get use of their CD’s and mp3’s that I have downloaded, but I need to stop the obsession with Kevin. It’s over. Yes, just like that. At the age of 20, I cannot be in love with a man who is married, let alone one who I will never, ever meet. I, of course, will finish “Taking You Home,” and enjoy the other two stories, but really folks, it was bound to happen some time.
Okay folks, I think that is it. I need to finish this up so I can post it for midnight…at the ripe age of 20. Love you all and glad I could share this with you!
Lotzaluv,
I really do swear too much. But for some reason I never swear at work, don’t get that one. Maybe I should just work more? Nah! I never can get used to that look in my mother’s eyes when I let out a slight vulgarity. It’s quite priceless, but reprimanding all in one. The swearing must stop!
Save for once in my life, instead of spending. This will actually work because I have to save money to live in University Plaza this next semester since it is about $600 more than the dorms per semester. Also, my last paycheck was for 75 hours in two weeks and it was almost $400 after taxes. Yes, I will repeat, AFTER TAXES. And I just got that check last Friday, and being the bum I am, have yet to get it to the bank. So, tomorrow, my first stop will be to the bank to cash that big puppy and start saving money! My next check should be about the same and that will come next week, good timing!
I realized from living with Itzah, at times when I was nice and would go to pat her on the back, she flinched, expecting me to hit her. And me and Ang always get into slapping fights. It’s fun and all, but I also learned my lesson when I tried to take on Joser-sexual because he’s always hitting on Ang (and not in a violent way. In a “Hey baby,” way). The kid is small, but squirmy. You know how many times he’s had me in a headlock and I’m gagging, trying to breathe? The kid is brutal, I think I hate him now.
I have to do something different and I’m not sure what yet. I’m considering my hair. Maybe dye? I’ve done the perm thing, and it was sooooo the eighties. And I’m always going from long to way short, long to way short. So, that’s not it. Maybe highlights, something subtle. Like light brown highlights? Lemme know whatcha think about that one.
For as long as I can remember I have loved rock music. Loved the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Credence Clearwater Revival, Jimmy Buffett. All that old stuff is great, but so is the new stuff. I love Matchbox Twenty, Blessid Union of Souls, Tonic, Third Eye Blind. And I’ll even admit to some Hootie. But, I’ve gotten a little sidetracked lately by some good-looking men who go by the name of Backstreet Boys. I need to get back to the sound of rock. Foo Fighters, Collective Soul, Dave Matthews, Everclear, Offspring, Bare Naked Ladies. Although, I must say, I will never, ever, forget the R&B of Motown, old school and today. That stuff is priceless.
So, for just one last time: Kevin Richardson, you are one fine piece of male specimen Backstreet ass. May you no longer wear skirts, grow your hair shaggy, or talk so slow. May you wear pants like real men do, cut your hair on occasion (including your facial hair), and begin to talk at the normal speaking rate. May you get more singing parts on future records. May you look just as terribly handsome in your old age as you do now.
Amy