30, Bitches

Now's the time for reminiscing about days filled with paper dolls, rock collections and pulling the tails off salamanders for fun... and the last time my legs looked this good in a sunsuit.

Oh birthdays...you bastards.

The Post Wherein A Matter of Great Importance Is Included

Hi Friends!

Pleasantries aside - I'm here today because I need you.

The largest and most important event in all of history that has yet to happen is happening next Wednesday. I think you can guess what it is.

My 30th birthday.

Gasp.

I've known this was coming for a long time, but now it's actually here (because, you know, that's how the passage of time works)...and I haven't got a clue as to how to honor the day appropriately. The original plan involved celebratory drunkenness with friends, but due to the recent visitation of a nasty and explicit stomach bug, both booze and (randomly) Ethiopian food are extraordinarily out of the question.

So what's left? I need thoughts. Ideas. Suggestions. Demands. Proposals. Synonyms.

In other news - why doesn't cake taste better? It should be delicious, but it's always disappointing. I don't think that's fair. I want to like it, but it's always so dry. Therefore, I reject it as the official birthday dessert. I'd rather have a chocolate-covered pretzel with a candle in it. And I will have it.

These days before the big event should probably be used to take stock of my life and outline my goals, yadda yadda yadda...but honestly, I'd rather put more thought toward my next toenail color. Because Spring is on its way and I just got some new open-toed shoes. Seriously though, mentally examining one's life is exhausting. Cake is disappointing enough - no need to tack the realization and acceptance of mediocrity on to it.

That being said, I plan on shaking some shit up over the next decade. Just you wait.

Hell Yes.

In one hour I turn 29. 6 hours ago I was handed the keys to my first piece of property. The last two hours were spent unwrapping various shapes of glassware used for varying types of liquor (me) and trying to figure out how to work the Swedish-made washing machine (Brendan).

Goals can be beautiful things when achieved.

(You know...when one bothers to finally getting around to make them because they panic that they're hurtling toward 30 with nothing to show for it.)

What I have to show for it:

Happy Birthday...

To Meeeeeeeeeee!

I'm gonna go enjoy some more beautiful booze in the beautiful sunshine with this stud muffin guy:

Cesky Krumlov, CZ. Go there. And have a sparkling wine with peaches in it.

See you in 3 days.

Bow To The Cuteness!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy Birthday to The Face! He's one and it's a big fucking deal so you can all just shut the hell up and watch his cuteness be all cute.