One Week In

So I've been 29 for a week. Woo.

Generally speaking I am uber excited for birthdays. Like a cracked out 3 year old if you will. 29? Not so much. If my mom hadn't been coming to town I would have locked myself in my apartment for a long weekend, hidden under the covers and wept. However, in town she was and thus, hiding wasn't an option. Instead we shopped until our credit cards burst into flames and then saw Dirty Dancing on stage.

Yeah.

We did.

I love me some DD. I do. Greatest movie ever. However on stage? Well, it's a smidge cheesy. Do not tell any of the other people in the audience that, however. While I love me some Dirty Dancing those motherfuckers L-O-V-E them some DD. People essentially screamed and passed out a la the Beatles on Ed Sullivan when the line 'nobody puts Baby in a corner was uttered'. Laughing at this made my birthday weekend significantly less painful.

I don't know, kids. Maybe it's the fact that it's the last year of my 20's and I don't feel particularly accomplished, or the recent tearing out of my still beating heart, but 29 has been painful. Very, very painful. It's getting better day by day, but dudes, I feel old and raw. Not a good combination. However, even if I am old and raw I now have a lot of new shit thanks to a shopping spree. And to quote my mom 'hey, when you get sad just look at your new bag and think 'fuck him, I don't need a man, I have a fantastic new purse'. ' And this is one of the many reasons why I love my mommy.