Waah. A few minutes ago, I was young. Now I am old. I don’t know why 23 is young and 24 is old, but there you have it.
I know that it’s stupid for me to moan about being 24 on a friends-list where the majority are older than me, but I will, dammit! It’s my (birthday) party and I’ll cry if I want to.
Chris happily informed me that birthday-twin Elijah Wood looks younger and fresher than me. *Stabstabstabbitystab!*
Unlike fellow Aquarian avariecaita, nothing very spectacular happened on my birthday. I was born two weeks premature, though. So really, the 28th is a borrowed day and I’m actually a February wench. That sucks even more.
I am now going to combat the pain of 24 by saying adieu and leaving for Switzerland. It’s snowing in Basel right now, and likely Alsace will be a frozen wasteland of endless bleak white.
How very fitting!
Ooh! Chardonnay. That will make it all better.
Oh, and from now on? I can be called Lady Rebecca, of the Scottish Loch Borralan Estate. Yes, certain nutters have purchased a whole square foot of land adjacent to a Scottish loch, automatically bestowing me with the title of one of the Scottish lairds. LMAO!
Best. Present. Ever!
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