I bought a cookie bouquet for my kids.
I wish there was an option to get Anti-Valentine’s Day cookies.
Cookies with messages like:
Meh
Nope
Go Away
Bite Me
Suck It
But sadly, it seems that love triumphs over disinterest and so I’m stuck with actually sending messages of love to my kids instead of snark.
Sigh.
I know they prefer snark.
The quinceañera party for the 15 year anniversary of the Village took place on Monday afternoon on the playa at the local bar, aka the bar I worked at from 10 pm to 12 am serving drinks to thirsty guests.
I got dressed up in all my quinceañera finery:
It was fun to celebrate with other villagers and even though only ONE OTHER PERSON got dressed up in theme (thank you, Moonbeam), I had a great time drinking spiked horhata and eating churros.
Of course, as I was bartending, I had to card everyone before pouring them a drink.
In my quinceañera dress.
A couple of young kids, barely legal (but legal, nonetheless) came by and asked for drinks.
I carded them – they looked YOUNG – and noted that they were all 23 or younger.
They asked me why I was so dressed up.
“It’s my quinceañera!” I told them.
One snarky young lady said to me, “Now I need to see YOUR ID!”
They all laughed heartily at her joke.
Rude!
But true.
A 45-year old woman in a pink frilly dress and a tiara is not something you see everyday.
Unless you’re at BURNING MAN!
