Monday, April 13, 2009


It's my birthday, yall! Wooooo! And I'm at home for lunch so I'm not breaking my no day-blogging clause.

One way that I know I'm getting older (aside from the fact that Naturalizer footwear looks increasingly comfortable) is that I don't want to make a huge deal of my birthday anymore. I don't want to shove thirty of my closest acquaintances into a bar on a Saturday night or force an unlucky waiter to contend with eight loud, drunken women. It's not that I don't like a good party, but this year I just felt like keeping things low-key.

To that end, my present to myself (and to you) is the second edition of Go Fug Myself.

The scene: a rural home outside of Austin Texas
The year: 1985
The look: Punky Brewster after a few years spent in a dumpster

I look like one of the Manson children. Or at the very least, one of the Zappas. But check out how serious I am about the sidewalk chalk drawing. The others seem to be waiting with bated breath for my critique. What's that on my right nipple area, you ask? A puffy sticker. Oh, yeah.

Now, on to 1990/91 in the parking lot of my grandfather's old age home.

UNA: You wish you looked like me.
ZOE: Can it, bitch.
UNA: You wish you had high-waisted, acid-washed denim Capri pants.
ZOE: Actually I’m pretty sure I’m better off pantsless.
UNA: My two-piece looks like the Carvel ice cream logo. I RULE.
ZOE: You have one eyebrow and no belly-button. How does that work?
UNA: At least I’m not wearing bunny sneakers, halfpint.
ZOE: Um, I believe you belong in guest parking, hag. Read the sign.

Finally, I will share with you a particularly unforunate look from college.

I remember buying that skirt. It was Betsey Johnson, on sale for $20 at a vintage clothing store. I was in love with Betsey Johnson at the time, mostly because she was the only real designer whose clothes I'd even worn. I convinced myself that there would come a day when it would make sense to wear the skirt. That day came when I got sloshed on cheap vodka and decided to hit a kegger.

Even wearing that I never got laid until junior year, which says something. Also, note to former waify self: STOP DOING THE CHARLIE'S ANGELS POSE. You could not kick anyone's ass. I could snap your arm in half. Eat a sandwich.

(Also: close your mouth.)

I don't want to end by being a bitch to myself, as this is my birthday. So I'll end on a positive note:

Oh, strawberry two-piece with sensible sandals. I want to go to there. (P.S. Nice short shorts, Dad).

Also, check out the top photo on this post: My shirt matches my cake. I think it goes without saying that my skills are of the mad variety.

Have a blessed Una Birthday 2009. It is customary to have a celebratory cocktail at 11:52 am to celebrate the exact moment of my birth.



  2. ROTFLMAO That pic of you and your sister in the parking lot (and its subsequent commentary) had me laughing so hard that there were literally tears rolling down my face!! My kids think I've lost my mind...=) Thanks for being the bright spot in my super-late evening! ;)


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