Thank you Jerry, and yes, it was yesterday! I'm officially an old lady, the big three-oh. It's a good thing, because now my knitting and sewing and old-lady name and wiener dogs all make a lot more sense. Plus, it feels kind of cool not being stuck slogging through my 20s anymore. I'm so over the 20s. The 20s were all about going to class and figuring things out and deciding what to be and what to do and what not to do. Not that I've got anything much more figured out, but I have learned things like not to keep drinking after you've thrown up (age 19), not to keep calling the boy if he stops returning your calls (age 20), how to read as little of possible but still ace the test (age 21), and how to get a real job that pays the bills (age 28). So now that I've got that stuff out of the way, I can be 30 and fabulous. And I'm going to try all sorts of new things. Already, I've been to Jack in the Box for the first time and eaten my first mussels (two different events, obviously). And it's only going to keep getting better from here!
I'm not going to tell you how hot it is here, nor am I going to complain about the weather. Contrary to popular belief (based upon the amount of people who do it), whining about the weather does not actually change it. Apparently, there are plenty of other blogs out there doing that if that's what you want to read. But I am going to mention that if you have absolutely nothing important that you need to be doing or anywhere you should be going, if you can get away with wearing nearly nothing, if you enjoy bad reality TV, and if you surround yourself with icy cold beverages, sprawl on the couch and point all the fans at you, this weather suits me fine.
I am also pondering why my neighbor, the Laundry Slut, continues to have at least eleventy billions loads of laundry to do EVERY weekend despite the fact that from April till October he NEVER wears a shirt. Tessa is currently barking up a storm at him because he's out in the yard, and even Tessa understands that public nudity is a privilege, not a right. A right specifically reserved for Colin Farrell and the Italian soccer team. And last I checked, furry Laundry Sluts were not members of that team.
Oof, I've left my post. Back to the couch, I don't think I've seen this particular episode of Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List.
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