Ha ha! I'm not incompetent!

Oh goodness gracious me. 27 years old today! Do you realize what this means?

1. My workplace has ordered me the cake you see in the picture

2. I’ve lived away from my parents for nine years without dying of incompetence

Pour the champagne!

Yesterday an office lady asked me how old I was turning; when I told her she cocked her head and said ‘why, that’s not old.’ In a voice that implied it was, indeed, old. It’s certainly older than it was last year. Shitheads, if we're older then we used to be it's because we didn't die in the interim. That rocks. NOT DYING IS MY FAVE. Fuck. I don’t get people.

Maybe my birthdays aren't as hard as people seem to expect because I’ve done so many monumentally stupid things. All the uber-stupid stuff I’ve done makes the aging process easier, I think, because I’m moving farther away from it as I get smarter. So I end up having no real regrets. Although I am fucking bitter about the thesis stretching into a new year after I nearly had a nervous breakdown over it. Putain, if France only had one eye, I’d start smoking again just to hork a nasty loogie into it.

And it’s true this birthday’s making me take stock a little, which is nice. It’s lovely to be able to put your finger on what’s wrong with your life so you can fix it. For example, at the moment, it’s winter. That’s wrong. I think I can fix that. Mostly by waiting until the winter goes away, or moving somewhere warm. Possibly by wearing another layer of clothing. Oh - and at the moment I’m not being firmly loved down by this. That’s wrong. That’s so wrong I could cry. I doubt I can fix that, though, unless someone has really gone all out on the gifting tonight. We're going to a South American restaurant where they serve grilled cow hearts. Can't wait!