Git Yer Big Girl Panties On!!!

So, I am coming up on my quarter-life crisis. It’s still a few months away, but for the past year I’ve been planning to go to Vegas (Vegas, baby, Vegas!) for it. I’ve never been, but it sounds Delightfully Tacky Yet Unrefined. Perfect. Consequently, planning should probably start sometime in the next month if I really want to get all my favoritest peeps out there to celebrate with me.

Lately I’m sort of torn… I always thought I’d live in DC for a few years, and then move on- to New York, Chicago, Colorado, who knows. (The destination isn’t as important as the novel experience.) After all, so far this year I’ve spent just about every other weekend somewhere else. LA, Savannah, New Orleans, Miami, Massachusetts, New York, Carolina, the Dominican Republic, etc… It’s been an eventful year, travel-wise. My point is, I’m tired. I know I said that I wanted to visit a place I’d never been every month this year, and I still would like to (although July’s looking a little grim on that front), but I’m also really, really enjoying the summer here in D.C. And it’s not just because I took a shmoopy pill and went and fell in love, although that certainly doesn’t hurt. I had decided even before I met him that I needed a little break from all the traveling and wanted to really enjoy my own city for a little while. (I still heart you, Bahston! You’ll always be my home, you cheeky monkey…)

And this summer has been a blast. People bash DC all the time; yes, it’s basically New York’s dorky kid sister who always wants to tag along and is completely ruining your buzz because all you want to do is pass around a j on the way to school (because how else are you going to get through the last days of your senior year, seriously? Jeebus, you’re eighteen, for chrissakes, when does it end?!) But, I kind of love DC. I love how it feels homey, and the buildings are old and pretty, and the people watching NEVER disappoints. I love how I look prettier here because 95% of DC girls are dorky and don’t know how to dress. (No, I’m not sorry… it’s true.) I love how it’s a transient city, so people are always looking to make new friends. I love how there aren’t skyscrapers so there are rooftops EVERYWHERE upon which I can booze freely. I love how I can walk anywhere and everywhere, thus burning off said booze and keeping my ass in decent shape, even though I barely remember how to operate the elliptical machine in my office’s gym.

Probably part of this diatribe is self-preservation, because in light of recent events, I have a feeling I’m going to be in DC a lot longer than a couple years. The other part of it is actually leading up to a point. (You just got excited, didn’t you? Hold on, I didn’t say it would be interesting…)

My point being, I kind of love it here. And more importantly, there’s like a trillion people that I love here as well. My peeps are fun, y’all. (Where my cunts at??) (That’s for you, Lem.) It’s how we do. And although Vegas would be AMAZING, I’m starting to think that maybe I’d rather have an old-fashioned, git yer big girl panties on HOLY SHIT WHY IS JIMMY ON FIRE broo-ha-ha right here in my own city, the Dizzle C. (Bee tee dub, I totally spelled “broo-ha-ha” right on the first try, WHAT! At least, according to Google. And everyone knows Google is always right. Love you, Big Brother!)

Vegas would be a helluva shit show and barrels of fun, to be sure. But I can do that any weekend, just because it’s frickin Vegas. I think on my birthday, I would like to be surrounded by as MANY of the kickass people in my life as possible, and keep the hooch flowing, y’all.