Happy Cinco de Me

Happy Birthday to me. And so it begins... or ends, depending on how you look at it. As a kid, I, oh, I don’t know what you call it… dream sounds so flaky, and visions happen only to crazy ladies named Aleta who have shrines in their entryways and annually make the pilgrimage to Madjagoria. Anyhow, as a kid I became convinced that the last birthday I’d ever see was 32. And so this is it. Scoff if you may, I dont' really give a shit. I've had better people than you try to convince me otherwise. Anyhow, I brought bagels to work to celebrate, and am going to meet friends to knit tonight. Beerman had no plans, so I figured, what the hell, I might as well at least celebrate. And for the record, if I do make it to 33, it’ll be one hell of a fiesta.