Strap on your swagger and hide the kittens, Ladies and Gentlemen, because Mama Furbush is comin’ to town! This is a woman who will write me pages about the drama going on between her cats, leaving a sentence at the very end informing me that yes, my father and troll brother are indeed both still alive. She is a woman who says things like, “Every time I see a hairy back, I just want to lick it all over!” and “I’m studying for my crazy cat lady certification. It’s coming along nicely, thank you for asking.” She is not so much a woman, as a legend. She was the only reason I had any facebook friends in high school, and she’s probably the main reason that I have no sense of normalcy.
Friday marks the arrival of Princess Consuela, and I have already been informed that “we gonna party like it’s 1933 and Prohibition was just repealed!” The usual screaming and cooing, which terrifies my father so much that he feels the need to hide in my Glamour magazines, will occur. Also on the list: wreaking the usual havoc on my university, attending a concert of a man named Poncho Sanchez, dancing until somebody pees, and maybe having “Who Can Do the Best Running Man” contests, which really aren’t contests at all.Excitement could not even come close to encapsulating what I am feeling at this moment!
Oh, and did I also mention that this gem is turning fifty-one tomorrow?
The Big V 