My husband has many acquaintances. He knows a lot of people. But I can honestly say that the handful of friends he has is quality. He has, and he might beg to differ, five quality friends, three of which he has known since high school.
Most of these friends (about 95% of them) turn 30 this year. Yes, they were all 1975 deliveries. And most of them have birthdays in the beginning of the year.
One of our friends who just turned 30 on Monday is celebrating with a blowout weekend in fabulous Las Vegas. Where else should a grown man mourn the passing of his twenties? What's that you say? Men don't mourn it? I beg to differ.
Case In Point: Everytime we get a phone call from one of the group regarding said "thirtieth" birthday, they are WHINING about it. Oh yeah, I said it. Whining about it.
Most of you know and some of you don't, but I celebrated my 30th THREE years ago. So yes, I am older than my husband. And I partied like a rock star. And to be truthful, I LIKE being 33. I like being in my thirties period. I didn't mourn the passing of my twenties. I like being the OLDER woman.
So long story short, we are headed to Vegas, baby, to party like rock stars for the weekend. And if I win a million dollars, I won't be back.
Oh alright - I'll write, but I won't be back to WORK.