Happy Birthday to me
I’m one billion and three
I look like an old hag
And I smell like baby wee
(but I have had a pretty nice day in which I had three and a half child-free hours alone with my husband so I’m okay with it).
Happy Birthday to me
I’m one billion and three
I look like an old hag
And I smell like baby wee
(but I have had a pretty nice day in which I had three and a half child-free hours alone with my husband so I’m okay with it).
Beefcake and I went through my wardrobe last night and could find nothing for me to wear – he actually agreed with me that this was (pretty much) the case. I was forced to make a last minute trip to Sportsgirl to pick up a top (there is one literally two minutes from my house) so that I would be able to venture out unadorned with food or snot.You know, it had been so long since I went out that I was actually kind of nervous. Let’s say, nervously excited.
Anyway, my friend , S, picked me up (she was a little bit beside herself too) we made our way out into the wilds to pretend that we were cool and ‘rock and roll’. When we pulled up to the venue there was a line about a mile long, stretching down the main road outside the pub. We both moaned about how long it was and just having to queue to get in. This should have been the first sign that I am old.
As it happened, by the time we had parked the car, the doors had opened and the line had moved inside very quickly. I won’t give you a blow by blow but let’s just say that the support acts should possibly have stayed at home and there may have been some generally old fartish comments about smoke drifting in from the beer garden and how very loud the music was.
We both enjoyed Josh Pyke’s performance very much. You know when you go and see a band live after having listened to the cd extensively and you are expecting it to sound something like the cd and it doesn’t. They’ve changed subtle bits of melody here and there, they’ve left bits out, the singer can’t sing all that well and you’re really disappointed because you want to go and sing along to the music and have it sound as it does in your head. Yeah, well this wasn’t like that. He was good. He can sing and was chatting to the audience – he was actually pretty funny. We had fun.
Here it is though:
I AM OLD. Now, I know that really, I’m not old. I am a very young woman still, despite having a few grey hairs and having friggin’ four children who are quadrupling the ageing process with each paint melting scream or fight they subject me to. I know that I am really a young woman but I have moved into a different phase in my life. I’ve had a subtle attitude shift. Whatever I am now, it is definitely not rock and roll.
Let’s look at the evidence, shall we?
So, there you have it peeps. I am an old fart well before my time. The children have sapped the youth out of me……
Well, mostly, there was one woman there, signifcantly older than S or I, who was dancing her little heart out with abandon. We made a pact. If either of us ever sees the other one being quite this inappropriately frisky, we will put a stop to it. I’m just hoping it will be a little while before I get there.