I'm turning thirty next weekend. That started to seem like a milestone only very recently. I'm hoping people will use it as an excuse to make a fuss over me. There's no such thing as too much attention, if you ask me. T-Regina is going to have a party for the two of us--mine until midnight, hers thereafter--making it the sixth year running that the two of us have celebrated together. Miss Manners says it's in appalling taste to use these events as an excuse to shake down one's friends. I shall therefore make no mention of my Amazon wishlist.
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1 comment:
You also need to not link to your amazon wishlist. For, um, no reason.
30 is a tasty age. Old enough to be someone's older woman, still young enough to be someone's schoolgirl.
30 is also the birthday where people generally should have a tattoo bought for them. At least, that's how it works around here.
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