Being the diva that I am, I began my 3 week birthday celebration this past weekend. And of course, this extravaganza has to stretch not only 3 weeks, but also across the northeastern seaboard. As I had my “Maine B-day” this weekend, my “Boston B-day ” next week, and then, to cap it all off, my “Washington D.C. B-day Blowout” the week after. Why so crazy? Because I FUCKIN LOVE myself. You only turn
27 23 once, right?
Anyways, part 1 in Maine was an absolute shit show. As it should have been. We spent the night at some trashy watering hole called “Bubba’s.” Let me tell you, Bubba’s had a 1970’s light-up disco dance floor, more yard-sale collectables than an episode of TLC’s “Hoarders” and was run by a mob of 80 year-old Golden Girls. Honest to god, the lady running coat check was at least 85 and instead of handing me a coat check number she grabbed a sharpie and scribbled the number 11 on my hand. Meanwhile, Cloris Leachman was running the bar and poured me the strongest cape codder I’ve had since …since… well, New Year’s Eve. Not to mention, the entire bar looked like a rundown church’s fall bazaar; full to the brim with useless old junk that should be thrown out, but instead is collected by old ladies. There were literally mannequins dressed up in outfits (related to whatever the nearest holiday was) in every corner. I repeat: dressed-up mannequins in almost every corner. Here’s my pic with one. I’ll call her “Shirley.” Shirley was a real slut. God bless her. Hopefully, the Boston B-day event can live up to the crazy shenanigans that Shirley had to offer. Time will tell.
Absolute highlight of the weekend: The freshly made-to-order donuts at The Frog and Turtle in Westbrook. I got maple glazed with bacon. Must. Have. Again. Now.