per sempre giovani

A couple weeks ago, my friend Ele, issued me a challenge. She said “Kara, what happened to you? You are no fun anymore.” I woke up the next morning on my bathroom floor, naked with a camera full of pictures of me in Kanye West glasses, and a phone full of inappropriate text messages. Let that be a lesson: Don’t challenge me. I always win.

In an attempt to bring the fun back to my life, Ele and I drove to Cleveland for Angela’s bachelorette party this past weekend. The trip started with a pit stop at Exotic Fantasy’s in the Oregon District to get presents. It was dirty, I mean really dirty. I am pretty hard to shock but the creepy guy in the corner, staring off into space was too much. We laughed like 13 year olds at all of the nasty stuff in the store, took a few pictures, bought some glittery purple anal beads and went on our way. After a three hour drive that was full of laughter, Starbucks, and karaoke, we arrived at Mandi’s house for the party. From the second I walked in the door, I could not help but feel like a little girl playing dress up. The mere fact that I have a friend (wait two) getting married sends me into a bout of the cold sweats. 1.) Because I feel like we are still 19 and in college and 2.) Because the word marriage gives me this feeling in my stomach that makes me want to crawl under my desk and with huge with a bottle of Xanax and sleep for the next 50 years. (There is an overwhelming possibility that I could wake up in 20 years with 16 cats.) But that is neither here nor there; so I walk into the house, I look to my right and there is a huge poster of a naked guy that says “pin the junk on the hunk.” Next thing I know, our blushing bride hands me a cocktail with a straw shaped like a penis.

It was a blast. We had a free pass to get really drunk and act like kids. Seven hours and 90% of the party puking in the bathroom later, we head back from the bars to eat cupcakes and meet up with the boys. I woke up at 8:00 am in the fetal position to my alarm going off with a nagging suspicion that I was supposed to be doing something. Oh, yeah, Florida! I made it to the airport in the same outfit, hair, make-up as the night before. The flight attendant said “Ma’am, you’re buttons on your shirt are unbuttoned.” (They were, absolutely, supposed to be unbuttoned!) If you looked up hot mess in the dictionary you would have seen me sitting in the Cleveland airport. Note to self: NEVER fly hung-over. Twelve hours later, I arrived in Naples to a mom who looked outwardly disappointed in my appearance.

She said, “Kara, it’s time for you to grow up.”

That’s the problem! Too many people grow up. The fun stops and they forget what it feels like to be a kid. These people think that maturity is something that is coveted. They think that they are going to impart some majestic wisdom that will force me to grow up. Newsflash: I’m not interested. The second I forget what it feels like to laugh until my stomach hurts, have a hangover that takes over 24 hours to cure, and act completely inappropriately is the second I am quitting my job.

Lucky for me, I have Ele. I am fairly confident that she is Peter Pan.