So I’ve kind of unofficially decided 2009 will be another “blog-a-day” year. I haven’t formalized it as my new year’s resolution, so maybe, maybe not. I’ve been going back and forth between doing it every five years, which would mean not doing it this year, and every three years, since three is my favourite number, or maybe every year ending in a multiple of three, which means my next blog year wouldn’t be until I’m 23 which is… 2013!
Anyway, mon birthday was New Year’s Eve, as it is every year. I’ve already written about the main festivities, ie. the concert, but I suppose it will be not fun to write about the rest of the day.
It was my nineteenth birthday, which is a good birthday for most people because it means they can (legally) drink in Canada and gamble and all that fun stuff. This doesn’t really mean much to me, nor did sixteen when I could drive and eighteen when I could buy lottery tickets and be in pornos and everything else that comes with being officially an adult.
Nineteen’s a nice looking number: 19. It’s no different from 18 except for the 9, and 9s are nice. I don’t care much for 8s, although I think that was George Harrison’s favourite number. Could be wrong, maybe it was 7. I might be biased because of John Lennon, but I think I just like 9 for 9.
I liked 17. It’s not like I did anything dangerous, but it’s an age where you can still be dangerous. You can lie about your age and buy lottery tickets or be in pornos. But now I can’t lie about my age. I mean, I can, but what’s the point? Plus, as I’m sure I’ve been over before, 17 had a Winger song. All 19 gets in songs are references to years.
I guess it’s kind of like once you’re 18, you start wanting to be younger and not older, as you did when you were 17.
Enough of that rot. I wasn’t planning on going off like that.
My dad took me to the casino, which was considerably funner in Canada than in the United States. Alas, I had been in a casino when I was only 18, and in America, too! They only let you walk across the casino in order to get to the buffet, where we were eating for someone’s birthday or anniversary or some occasion I can’t recall. But, you need to be escorted by an escort and you need to stay on this certain coloured carpet path at all times. I felt like I was supposed to just keep my head down and not look at anything, It was really awkward. My brother and I were being escorted with a group of other girls and we’d gotten too far ahead since the one girl was on crutches and we didn’t know and the escort yelled at us.
So being in the casino and not being considered a child or a criminal this time was much better. Needless to say, we lost, as you always do. It was fun, but not something I’d want to do all the time. We just played the slot machines, so we were just sitting there hitting “spin” over and over again, getting down to zero credits, and then finding another machine and doing it again.
Afterwards, we went to the Hard Rock Cafe for supper. We’d been there once before in Washington and I seem to remember we didn’t much care for the food, or the chicken at least. It was also pretty expensive. We decided to order two steaks this time and split it between the four of us. It was the “Mad Anthony” steak, which is Michael Anthony from Van Halen, which is pretty cool. It used his BBQ sauce or something on it, hence the name. They also had something with Joe Perry’s sauce on it, which is also cool.
We looked around after we ate, since the Hard Rocks always have rock memorabilia hanging around. They had a ton of guitars on the walls overhead, but none I was particularly impressed by. In a case by one of the tables they had possibly the only custom guitar I’ve ever really thought was cool: George Harrison’s guitar from “Magical Mystery Tour”. I tried to get a picture of it, but it was too dark.
I thought some other fun stuff had happened, but I guess not. I suppose I’ll stop here and recommence being nineteen, a terribly depressing age.