So I'm turning 30 in approximately 49 minutes, and do you want to know what I'm doing? Asking virtual magic 8 balls if we're going to get an agent for our book.This is pathetic. 18-year-old Lisa would be totally humiliated that this is how her soon-to-be-30-year-old self is spending her birthday eve.
Hmm...I wonder what else 18-year-old Lisa might say to her 30-year-old counterpart. This calls for some bullets...
- Skinny jeans, really? Have you seen our butt lately?
- So, let me get this straight, you're married to the guy we dated in high-school AND you have 2 kids? Who are you?
- Do you at least have a cool job? I'm sorry, did you just say that you work in human resources? Good god, what have you done to us!
- *GASP* And what the hell happened to our stomach!?
- Whoa, Tara lives in Cleveland and she's got two kids too? Seriously?
- This has got to be some sort of joke. Next you're going to tell me that our little sister, Stacey, is knocked-up and married to Erik, my boyfriend's, excuse me, our husband's best friend. I'm sorry, are you nodding your head? NO! Shut the f*ck up. What the hell is going on here!?
Ooops, sorry about 18-year-old Lisa's potty mouth. She's probably drunk. Thursday nights were big party nights back in the day. Anyways, always fun to be reminded of how lame I am.
And seriously, if by some random twist of fate an agent is reading this, have some sympathy for a girl on her birthday. If nothing else, I'll at least have something cool to report to my 18-year-old self...