So it seems I’m now 35 years old. It’s supposed to be a very good year for blue-blooded girls of independent means. But I’m still chasing after blue-haired boys of questionable means. That’s OK. I’m comfortable with the fact that Frank Sinatra might not approve of my life.
Thoughts on the day:
- I can now run for president, which is a nice irony on the 25th anniversary of Nixon’s resignation.
- I think I’ve jumped into a new Nielsen demographic. I’m now only allowed to watch CBS.
- I’ve now lived half the life the Bible guarantees. I’m not sure if this is a money-back guarantee. If I live longer than 70 years, do I have to pay more?
- The only two famous people who share my birthday are Rosanna Arquette (5 years older) and Herbert Hoover (35 years deader). No major truths can be gained from this fact.
Anyway, I’m looking forward to seeing anyone who dares show up tonight. And thanks for all the good wishes, etc.