Ugh, I made this stupid mixtape that I wasted a lot of time on trying to get right, and probably it’s still not right, but 8 tracks will not allow me to embed the fucking player and it is driving me mad. If you want, you can check it out on my 8 Track account. Also, I have to poop. Saturday I made an incredible batch of Jungle Juice like I was in college and went to the beach with Colin & our friend Justin, where I proceeded to get drunk and talk until I was good and sun burnt. I’m really building Colin’s repertoire of male friends. Too bad he can’t help me in the female friend department. Too bad I can’t even help myself there. Ugh.
I turn 28 on Saturday and I am pretty sure that this is the first time in my life that I do not care what I’m doing on my birthday. I mean, I’m turning 28. I made it past 27 without drinking myself into acoma or dying of a communicable disease. It’s all down here from now. Snoozeville, boringtown, hell-in-monotony. Does that mean I am losing my touch? The idea of blowing it out my ass is just sort of absurd because I come home to the same person. What a drag it is getting old. Well, it’s a drag, but not cause of that.
Sometimes it’s nice to wake up naked, on the floor and have someone explain to you that you decided to lock them outside naked and proceeded to pass out on the floor while they were scaling the side of the apartment to get themselves back in. Sometimes you deserve to be left on the floor. Love is not the great equalizer when a bottle of white wine turns you into Loki. I haven’t even slowed down in the partying department, really. I just think I care less about having people show up on my birthday in mass quantities to stare at me having the time of my life. I guess growing up is really more about proving shit to yourself than your audience. Honestly, all this means is Friday afternoon I will come up with some half-assed plan to blow it up bigger than ever, with pyrotechnics and a lazer light show and a certifiable human sacrifice. Let’s just hope that sacrifice isn’t myself.
happy birthday in advance. next year will be my 27th and then i will have a truly paranoiac depressive year. thank you in-part for helping plant that seed xoxoxoxo.
Why do you always have dinner plates hanging off your ears? I’m not concerned much with fashion, but it seems every earring you own is giant. Random, I know.