It’s just around the corner.

Yes it is my birthday I am talking about. I think once more (like last year) I should receive tremendous amounts of kudos for actually waiting until two days before to mention it.

I have made thorough research of my own mind-set to figure out why this has happened two years in a row. The result: Last year was the first year I was actually closer to 30 than 20. I don’t particularly find this a reason for celebration so I’m finding my insides torn between going all crazy on the birthday front and actually trying to ignore how old I am.

I feel very much like every cast of Friends when it comes to turning 30.

Rachel did not find this joke funny.
Rachel did not find this joke funny.

But I want all the balloons, the big sign saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY and I want the big extravagant party where everyone gets drunk and we talk about it long after I’ve turned the dreaded 30.

Though I have to note that a co-worker asked me on Monday how old I was turning and when I said 26 she replied:

“Wow you’re so young!”

That made me feel a little better, but only a little. I’m hoping shit loads of cake will do the rest.

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