Attacked

It was only poetic that my safest place turned on me this morning.

As I ran out for work, I closed my closet door to find two giant pieces of wood falling towards me.

If anyone could have seen the sight of me on the ground with the closet doors… It would have been award worthy.

My safe havens have turned on me.

It started at Drybar before my friend Marissa’s 25^th birthday party.

I wish I had taken a snap of my expression as the satanic stylist blew out my hair.

I would write what went down, but they gave me a fat discount #hushmoney since it was such a terrible experience.

We then began our quest to Malibu Wines.

With the dark and stormy weather, the hills of Calabasas started to resemble an episode of Game of Thrones as we twisted up and down the canyon.

Alas, we made it to the Malibu vineyard and I came to the realization I had left my ID in Brentwood.

Aw hell.

I am going to have to Uber home….

As I envisioned the “insufficent funds” email from Bank of America appearing in my inbox the next morning, Marissa’s mom swooped in and verified my age with always necessary numbered birthday balloons as key evidence that I was not underage.

Thanks to Mrs. Stahl, I was allowed entry, and enjoyed chardonnay and charcuterie for quite a while.

It was a little burr out in the ‘Bu, so half the time I looked like I was going to a Bar Mitzvah or a character from Aladdin.

This was one of four birthdays for 5/11.

Part one of my father’s birthday began earlier in the week at Musso & Frank.

Part two was celebrated on Sunday, with a margarita tutorial and an over consumption of Sweet Lady Jane.

And in between I celebrated my friend Wes’s 25^th over a pitcher at Q’s.

The celebration continues….