You Take The Cake

34 of anything is alot, especially when they are gleaming candles on your buttercream frosted birthday cake. Yes, dear readers this LRG turns three decades plus four today but despite the crow’s feet headed to Grand Canyon fissure-land, I have little cause for alarm. My spirit (as well as my teley viewing habits) are still akin to the ‘tween set purusing the PB Teen catalogue. Boho skirts instead of dowdywear, Real World as opposed to Desperate Housewives. When I start pining for re-run episodes of Bonanza, Columbo and Murder She Wrote, just kill me…quickly, don’t bother with the oxygen tube. And speaking of must-see-TV, I confess to a new late-night boob tube addiction, Laguna Beach of Orange County highschooler fame. Watching characters half my age and twice my cup size duke it out over Gucci shoes and hot boys is the tops in mindless voyeurism! I giggle as we follow the triangulated escapades of Kristin/Stephen/LC and wonder, was I ever that whiny and insecure? Were my skirts ever that short? Did my boyfriends and I have those sappy, ridiculous conversations filled with puppy love angst? Probably not because lucky for me, I chose first loves well what with an MIT docta and technical guru cum disco king (IT’s Puff Daddy minus a little of the bling) and have no regrets. You’re still brilliant and hot to trot boys and will always hold a place in my memories (and on the phone…I used to wait for ONE of you for HOURS on call waiting).

Thanks to all those who’ve made today and all of my 34 years special.

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