50 Days of 50: I Hate My Friends DAY 2

Mafia Haidresser Rants again4/10/2011 Day 2
It’s true: I did not know that when the idea of blogging about turning 50 came into my brain that it was actually 50 days until I turned 50. It was like the universe was talking to me. And, believe me, the universe talks to me a lot so my head is full of information and when I heaped in the awareness that I was going to have to come out of the closet and tell the public how old I really was it nearly drove me to murder. But hey, it’s my party I’ll kill if I want to.
As I stated yesterday, I was going to take out my angst and fear of getting old, my utter feeling of aloneness and my bitterness towards natural laws and physics on my friends next. Just like eating meat might be considered murder to many people, I think I’ll keep with the theme today and call it “tasty, tasty murder” and state that every self spiral depression must extract its innocent sacrifices as well.
Moving on: All of my friends are stick-in-the-muds. I had planned my own 50th birthday party and it was going to be this rad road trip with my two best friends and my boyfriend. We’d drive to St. Louis, have a few beers, spend the night and then go to Graceland the next day and Dollywood the next. Then we’d drive to Cleveland to see my cousins and go to Cedar Point amusement park. I was going to call it the Redneck Tour or the Lie About My Age Tour and I was planning live daily vblogs for the magazine I blog for, TheLocalTourist.com. Way fun, right?
When I called to firm up the trip with my buddies one of them said, “Well, that’s kind of a busy month for me at work…” The other one said, “I really don’t like roller coasters.” I didn’t hear a snap. It was more like a crack when the mental dam had broken. All the crap that was stuffed and buried in my head about turning 50 spewed forth and it’s been gushing out every since. I thought when you got older you realized that work was not all there was to life and that you should do things to keep you young. But my friends, young and old, are working harder and longer hours than I ever recalled and it’s getting problematic with everyone’s schedules to hang out with all of them. And when we do get together all they want to do is boring things like go to the movies or watch TV. Even going to a bar to watch a football game & eating is more interactive and physical than sitting and watching TV or a movie in silence. What is with the relaxing all the time? Rest when you’re dead I say!
Now wait. I get it. We’re all a little thicker in the middle and it’s a tough economy. But I still work out and even I work harder for the money but, with the exception of these past two years of publishing, I’ve always made time for my friends, especially for big occasions–like 50!
What if I was to ask all of my old friends “how come we don’t hang out as much as we used to?” I’m totally scared of what they’d say. I know I have my public display of drama moments and I’m not for everybody. To reiterate: maybe it has been me, for the past two years who has not been there for my friends as much as I used to but come on. But then again, truth be told, I hate that some of my friends have stopped drinking and some have taken drinking, and more, to a new level that I’ll never climb to. I guess I just very disappointed that we are not the same crazy yet level-headed group we used to be. We were fun. Some then some guys and girls have paired up, got married and some had a few kids. I have a boyfriend who, by the way, fits in with everyone, so much so that I’m certain that my friends like him better. And I’m cool with my BF being the glue that keeps my friends as a posse but we’ve still all become so distant and busy and old acting.
Did I really use the term “stick-in-the-mud?” That’s so not rad.

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