Have you ever had the urge to be BADDDDD? Bad, baddedad dad, bad, bad? Not criminal like bad; nothing that drastic. I’m thinking more like badass bad. BAD ASS! When you feel like saying to yourself “Fuck IT — LET’S HAVE SOME FUN!” If you answered yes, we’ve got something in common. I used to be a bad ass. Or at least I like to think I was. Back in the day when I was young and stupid. Boy, what I wouldn’t give to be young and carefree for a day or a weekend. I’d be so badass, people be like “Wow, she’s one badass motha f’er.” Check me out — I’m a gangster!
I have a badass fantasy. Well, OK, I have lots of badass fantasies, but the one I’m thinking about right now involves ditching work early, grabbing a couple bottles of wine and a pack of cigarettes (I don’t smoke), and driving myself somewhere fun: Whistler, maybe!?! I’d be footloose and fancy free.
Of course, I won’t do this because I’m old enough to know better. My boss would have a shit fit if I took off 3 hours early. Drinking two bottles of wine translates into a massive hangover, and one puff off a cigarette would send me into an uncontrollable hack attack. (Smoking only seems like a good idea when I’m drunk) I’m too damn old for caution to the wind behaviour, but it doesn’t mean I don’t think about it.
Every once in a blue moon, I get amnesia. It’s like I totally forget I’m 42 years old. I let loose, hit the town, and live it up. GET THIS PARTY STARTED BABY. Cause it’s my Birthday; we gonna party like it’s my birthday — The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire… we don’t need no water let the mother fucker burn burn. Whoot Whoot!!!! Mr. Smarty’s in the houze. (Hiccup)
This does NOT happen often, but when it does: I wake up the next day and think “WTF Bitch?”
I pay… OH yes; I pay. I haven’t grown up and become responsible because I’ve mature… no-sir-ree bob. I’ve grown up and become responsible because it hurts too much not to be. It hurts to be bad. It blows my mind what I used to be able to put my body through. The shit and abuse it would take with not much more than a wimper. Sadly, those days are gone. The more responsible me typically keeps it to 2 glasses of wine at home, in my PJs, cuddling with my dog. WHOLLY HELL I’m getting old.
Well my lovelies — this is my Friday, so I wish you all a great weekend. If you share the same continent as I, LEST WE FORGET!