Birthday Booty

On the eve of my birthday I've been a little depressed. Some would say that's normal, as I'm getting older and 29 is my last year of my twenties. Unfortunately, that's not the problem. See, many women in my family have lived past 90 years old. I see how I've lived these past 29 years and think, "Oh god, 60 more years of this shit. Ugh! 60 more years of career disappointment, 60 more years of hating my art, 60 more years of thinking I should text message Bill, 'you still married?'" And then not text messaging him only because I don't have his cell phone number and you can't text message a house. I'm already tired and I"m only 29. If I'm tired now while I have my health and am in some sort of shape what does this mean for me when I eventually don't have my health and I'm in no shape at all? There are just more years and more years and more years and still more years to come. Fuck Me!

But then I came home to a birthday card from my aunt. Inside she wrote to me that she had purchased this card in 1990 but had been waiting for the right person and the right time to send it to me. On the front stand two women and a dog in a dog house. The one woman says to the other woman, "Yeah, I named him after my ex-boyfriend." And the name above the dog house reads, "Fuckface." Brilliant card.

The next piece of mail I opened was from my friend James. It's a pink t-shirt and on the back it reads, "No Fatties." He told me last week while he was visiting that he wanted to get me a shirt that had printed on it that sentiment. Go James and Aunt Sue for brightening up my day.