I woke up early this morning to watch the new season of Girls. I love Girls because it is not Sex and the City. Sex and the City was the series I watched during my 20s and I am still as far from the Jimmy Choo wearing, Cosmopolitan life as I was when I watched the DVDs in my sad apartment. But Sex and the City seemed made up, so magical and pretend. No one could have that kind of life, only date guys who were in the upper echelons of NYC life and not working seven jobs to keep the closet space bedroom shared with three other people. I love Girls because all the characters are awful in a very real way, the way you are supposed to be in your 20s. You are supposed to be super self-absorbed, saying things like, “My truth” and subscribing to diet fads while eating footlong sandwiches (though that hasn’t left me). That’s why I love and hate all these characters. They are awful and confused and spout things that people in their 20s should say, the stupid things I am very familiar with because my mouth has mouthed these stupid mouthy words.
When I was 18, I was a huge fan of Dita Von Teese, the pinup and burlesque star. This was before she was married to Marilyn Manson, when people knew her from her Playboy.com appearances and various fetish magazines. And even though I was a super fan, I said this in a chat room which to this day is the worst thing I’ve ever said about a celebrity or anyone really: “I can’t believe she’s turning 30!”
I spewed that like a weapon, the weapon you use when you’re anonymous on the internet. 30! She would be 30! Like turning 30 years old would transform this gorgeous model into a troll hobbit garbage woman. She didn’t. And that kind of stupid quick jab ooooh I burned you! dumb logic followed me through my early-twenties and luckily tapered off by the end, though, don’t get me wrong. I am stupid in many aspects of my life though now I’m more aware of it. But what I said in that chat room has always stayed with me because 30 is nothing to fear or be ashamed of and the only type of person who says that is a dumb girl who isn’t old enough to rent a car.
This year of 30 has been remarkable, even though the time up to it was fraught with, what kind of garbage person will I become next year? I would happily welcome looking like Dita Von Teese at 30 or whatever age she is now or ever will be. And 30 has been terrific. It has been the year of surprise wonder: I landed a great job, traveled for comedy, went back to my natural hair color and figured some. shit. out.
Next week I turn another year older, further and further away from this generation I now watch and scoff at because they do things like clog up the buses with stupid talk and their brains are clogged with thoughts about boys and haircare products and buying $$$ jeans because you don’t have a full-time job and your dad is totally comfortable with supporting your Nordstrom’s habit because you’re his princess and even though it’s taking you FOREVER to get a degree in some nonsense field, you’re still not as bad as your joke of a brother whose only accolade to date is his high score in Grand Theft Auto, ALL OF THEM. GAHHHH.
I can’t wait to celebrate my birthday, have a drink and laugh heartily at my younger stupid self who never held a salad fork with this much class.