I’m not sure when it happened. I mean, I grew up recycling, for the most part. We always separated trash and recycling, for as long as I can remember. I am thankful I had a mom who made us do it, or otherwise I probably never would have.

But my adult years have taken this to a new level. I recycle. I conserve. I take public transit. I use natural cleansers. I worry about my carbon footprint. I am green!

I came to this realization while my sister was living with me. See, for a 22 year old, she is not green. I realized this when I noticed many things in the trash that were recyclable. So I would then go through the trash and pull out anything that was recyclable. (Oh, yes. Yes I did.) (I mean, the girl uses more toilet paper than I’ve ever seen! That’s a lot of empty cardboard rolls!)

I had no shame in picking out empty rolls of toilet paper or empty plastic bottles of the trash and putting them in the recycling bin. My trash and recyclables are all in the same place anyway, so it isn’t like it’s more effort.

And then on Monday I went to the grocery store after work. And I didn’t have any of my reusable grocery bags in the car. I figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal to use plastic this one time. It won’t kill the Earth. I re-use those bags to empty the catbox.

But as I approached the check out, I was overcome with this guilt about using plastic. It irritated me! Especially since I know that there were plenty of bags in my house!

So what did I do? I bought 2 new reusable bags at the checkout. And that was enough for my groceries, to show you just how little I bought.

I began to think of other things:

I use one of these at work and it hurts every time I have to buy a bottle of water. (I used to get hives when I went to visit Ali in Atlanta and there were so many bottles and they didn’t recycle!)

This is my lunch bag. Before I bought this, it was a reusable grocery bag.

I used to bring my lunch in Tupperware containers instead of plastic baggies.

Now I have reusable plastic baggies that I use for lunch.

I’ve tried to switch to mostly natural cleansers.

I feel like such a grown up! I know for a fact, 23 year old me did not care this much about conserving the planet. She just drank beer from the bottle and only worried about where the next beer was coming from, not how she was going to recycle said bottle. (In all honesty, I still probably think this way when I’m drinking.)

Do you notice any of these kinds of things that you do now that your younger self wouldn’t even think twice about?

See, 34 is almost 35. And I have had these arbitrary goals and deadlines in my head for when I turn 35. And now that is less than a year away. And holy overwhelming Batman! (Also, key word being arbitrary and that NOTHING WILL HAPPEN IF I DO NOT DO SAID THING BY THE TIME I AM 35!)

The big one is that I’ve always said, in recent years, that if I wasn’t married and a mom by the time I was 35, then 35 was the year I would start to make that happen. And again, holy overwhelming Batman. That is NEXT FUCKING YEAR! I don’t think I’m ready for that. I freaked myself out so much I had to sit down and breathe through a paper bag. Over an arbitrary deadline and AN IMAGINARY BABY!

My birthday ended up being fantastic. I was very meh about it and reminded people of it only once a day, as opposed to once an hour. My co-workers decorated my cube and gave me some lovely flowers and a nice card. And then! One of them made a cake and they all sang to me and we ate delicious pound cake!

For lunch, I met my friends Jen and Kelley for a delicious meal of a burger and fries. After a bit more work, I headed out and went to dinner with another friend in my neighborhood. There I had a lot of wine and great food and the company was even better. I used to work with my friend Jennifer and I hadn’t seen her in a long time and it was good to catch up on more than just short emails.

This last Sunday, I made everyone come out to our football bar to drink beer and watch football with me. It was perfect and everyone showed up and we all had a great time! Well, that I can remember. There were a lot of shots involved and then even more shots. But the best part of day drinking is that you’re done before 6 PM and it is easy to get a lot of rest!

Overall, it was a perfect birthday. And I’m not done celebrating because I still have my celebration with Noah and Skyler and my brother and SIL next weekend. My birthday is the party that keeps on going.

34 will be a good year. I’m sure of it. I’m finally in a job that I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. I have great friends and an amazing family. I’m a very, very lucky girl.

Sweetness indeed.

There was a discussion on Twitter today about how the average amount of credit card debt per person in America is $14,000. And there was a bit of shock over that because, yeah, it’s a lot of money. And the discussion then started about how people abuse credit and that there was sadly probably a lot of mink coats, yachts and big TVs to show for it.

Now, I am sure that is the case with a lot of the people. There are many, many people who abuse and do not understand credit. Look at all those people who bought houses they couldn’t afford and did interest-only loans. Credit is not FREE MONEY! But a lot of people don’t actually GET that.

I chimed in because that number makes me feel better. I will admit, I’m above the average when it comes to credit card debt. It is not something I’m proud of. And I will admit that there have probably been times when I wasn’t smart about it. I’m not embarrassed. It is my situation and I own it.

But for all that debt? I don’t have anything to show for it.

Well, that’s not true – I am alive because I was able to buy groceries. I still have a job because I was able to put gas in my car and get to and from work. I have a place to live because sometimes those utilities went on the credit card because the mortgage/rent couldn’t.

It’s not something I’m proud to admit. It also isn’t something new to me.

Back in college, my dad started drinking again. This led to him losing his business and going back on his promise to pay for my college education. THANKFULLY, I had a really awesome job, that I busted my ass in, that paid my tuition. But when loans weren’t enough to cover everything else, anything and everything went on the credit card. On the high-interest credit cards they give to us college students. Because we don’t know better.

(His drinking also led to him hanging up on me every time I called for money, which led to me decide to never talk to him again for the rest of his life, but that’s a whoooole different story for a whole different day.)

I got that all paid off in 2006. Ten years later. And that was through doing one of those debt management programs. Which absolutely killed my credit. It took me years after it was paid off, but I have finally built my credit score back up, enough to buy a condo. But I still have debt to deal with. My debt-to-income ratio is not favorable. Because since then, I’ve lost my job a few times and was forced to take lower paying jobs to pay the rent/mortgage. And when my checking account balance is negative, I avoid overdraft fees by putting living expenses on my credit card.

Smart? No. Responsible? Not really. Necessary? Hell yeah.

I’ve recently decided to become proactive and take my financial health seriously. I’m tired of paying minimum payments and not seeing my balance go down. Just last week, I decided to apply for a consolidation loan to help with my credit cards. I am hoping to get enough to pay it all down, but even if I can take a huge chunk of it away and replace it with a loan with a much more reasonable interest rate, I will be on my way. On my way to getting out of debt.

Yay for being an adult! It’s about damn time. I mean, really, I’m going to be 34 in less than 2 months.

*Sung to the tune of “When You’re A Jet” from West Side Story.

I tried to come up with something horribly profound to tell my 16 year old self. I couldn’t really come up with much. I mean, I was a pretty grounded individual. Some people may say I should have gone out and partied more, been less of a nerd and homebody, but I don’t know that I would change that. I have clearly made up for the fact that I didn’t drink or party in high school. I think starting it earlier would have just been worse and gotten me into trouble.

I wasn’t too angsty of a teen. I remember getting the most upset by the Buffalo Bills losing FOUR SUPER BOWLS IN A ROW more than anything else. Yes, I had my mood swings as a teen, as I’m sure my mom will attest to in the comments, but overall, I think I was a good kid. I had fun with my friends. I enjoyed being a band nerd. I was comfortable in my skin. I mean, hell I was like the only girl in high school who didn’t wear dresses or make-up or do my hair every single day. I was happy in a ponytail, jeans and a Notre Dame t-shirt/sweatshirt most of the time.

Thinking back, I’m pretty proud of my 16 year old self. She was smart and funny, had a lot of great friends, some she’s still friends with to this day. She could have fun without getting into trouble. She loved her family, probably not her younger sister so much at that time. She knew what she wanted to do with her life. She was going to be a sportscaster and do something with sports and no one was going to talk her out of it. She also thought she was going to go to Notre Dame, but that turned out to be the best thing to ever NOT happen in her life.

Sure, I could have gone to more dances and school functions, maybe joined the school newspaper. But would those things have made 33 year old Kristin a happier individual? Probably not.

Granted, I’m sure my life has not turned out how 16 year old Kristin wanted. I know she figured she’d be on ESPN and famous, with a hot husband and a boat load of kids. But I would like to tell 16 year old KJ that it is OK. Things turn out how they are supposed to. And you’re where you need to be and it will happen. It’s better for you for it to happen later in life than when you were 25. Everything happens for a reason and you’re on the path you’re supposed to be on.

Because let’s face it, 16 year old me, not a whole hell of a lot has changed in the last 17 years, has it?

(I just love how I’m wearing a sweatshirt I puffy painted MYSELF and a homemade scrunchie.) (Also, 90% of my photos from high school have me with my mouth open just like this. Always klassy with a K.)

So apparently turning 33 has made me revert to being in my early 20s and partying on school nights and spending late nights in bars. Because I not only celebrated on Sunday, I went out again last night for my actual birthday. And stayed out until almost midnight, which is not what a 33 year old woman should be doing on a Tuesday night. Let me tell you, I may have been partying like I was 23, but I woke up feeling every single one of those 33 years in my aching body.

But it was worth it, mostly. The shots? Probably not worth it. Especially the warm shot of gin I had to do because I kept my friend waiting. Although, I’m sure she wasn’t too sad to be sitting at a bar talking to the cutie bartender.

So yes, we did go back. It was a fun night. There were a lot of shots taken and some people (*cough* my sister Alix *cough*) got a little out of control, but it was an excellent way to spend my birthday.

In hindsight, I probably should have spent my evening on my couch, watching bad TV and cuddling up with my new friend.

Internet, meet the new love of my life:

I had it shipped to work, so my friend at work wrapped it for me so I had something to open on my birthday. Isn’t that cute?

So far, I’m in love with it. And hey, if I don’t buy me a present, who will? The cats? Please, all they gave me was dirty looks and a litterbox full of crap to clean. Ungrateful assholes.

All in all, it was an excellent 33rd anniversary of me being expelled from my mom’s uterus. I had a blast with friends, flirted with a cute bartender and showered myself with gadgets!

And now I’m off to read Hunger Games on my new Kindle. (I think she needs a name.) I want to see what all the hype is about with these books.

:::

So I’m walking in the Chicago Race for the Cure next Saturday and wanted to reach out to all of you to see if you would be willing to help this awesome cause. Breast cancer is such a horrible disease and the more money we raise, the higher the odds we can kick this disease to the curb and save all the boobies!

If you would be interested in donating, I would really appreciate it. I know it is a tough economy, but every little bit helps and I know that breast cancer research would appreciate every penny we raise. You can find my donation page here.

My birthday is my favorite day of the year. It is no secret that I like attention focused on myself, so nothing better than a whole day where people have to be nice to you and shower you with gifts and attention. Sadly I’ll be working for most of the day, but should be going to dinner and out for a few drinks with some friends. I say should because my friend and I spent most of the day in bed with food poisoning or something from whatever we ate on Sunday night. Just when I thought the Kristin Johnsons were gone, I was sadly mistaken and thankful to be home and close to a bathroom.

(I have no direction to this post, can you tell?)

So this month is crazy busy for me. I spent part of the past week/weekend in Pittsburgh for work. We had a meeting and then the company picnic on Saturday. It was a good trip. Usually my trips to the ‘burgh are for 36 hours and I never really get to hang out with my friends/co-workers there. But this trip I had Friday night free and was able to actually go out in Pittsburgh and hang out with people outside of a conference room.

My friend Tiffany owns a bar and so we went to her place on Friday night. It was a blast and so fun to hang out in a casual setting with her, even if she was working as the bartender. Also, it’s nice to have friends who own bars.

The picnic on Saturday was a lot of fun. The food was amazing and it was so nice to meet my co-worker’s families and kids. My flight left at 5 PM on Saturday and then I headed back to Chicago. At that point, it had already been a long day. But it was far from over. I had to head over to my aunt’s house, since she was throwing a party for my cousin who just graduated and got her PHD. The party included a pig roast and thankfully, I missed the pig cooking and being decapitated. But damn, that was a good sandwich!

The  biggest reason I trekked to the party was this little one:

Is she not the cutest baby ever? She’s gotten so big! She’s three months old now and is a little chubby baby. I LOVE chubby babies! She’s such a good baby and laughs at her Auntie already. She must know, at such a young age, how ridiculous I am. I must give off some sort of crazy scent.

Yesterday was my official birthday celebration, watching football at our regular Sunday bar. And there was a new bartender this year and we totally hit it off. The interesting thing is that I thought I had hit it off with previous bartenders at this place, only to realize that they were just being nice to me for my tips. But this guy was different! He actually hung around after his shift ended to hang with me.

AND! He’s from Wisconsin so I told him I was heading to Madison this coming weekend for the ASU/Wisconsin game. So he spent like 20 minutes looking up the addresses of places I HAVE to go when I’m there for the game! How cute is that? Oh, and he gave me his digits. So all in all, the food poisoning was totally worth it.

And then, of course, the cab driver gave me his number. And since I was giddy over bartender guy, I wasn’t even offering mine up. IT IS A GIFT! I should so have a cab driver whisperer show.

On Friday night my friend Lara was having a get together for her birthday. I spent the day whining to anyone who would listen because I am OLD and going out at 9 PM on a Friday night is HARD! And then my friend Melissa was like “suck it up, you fool! You need to get out of your Grandma funk! PUT ON YOUR BIG GIRL PANTIES!”

So I did. I kept myself busy when I got home from work on Friday evening. I made sure that I didn’t take a nap because if I had taken a nap, I would have been down for the count. I made coffee and added some Bailey’s to it. And I love Lara and she helped me celebrate my birthday, so the least I could do was suck it up and be a big girl and go out and have a good time.

And boy, howdy, am I glad I did! Because I am apparently a cougar! And I took a nice, YOUNG, 24-year old Irish lad home to my condo! He was the first one I’ve brought back to my new place. AND I HAVE LIVED HERE ALMOST A YEAR NOW!

24. That is almost nine years younger than me! NINE! I nabbed myself a child! A fetus! A cute fetus, though, no?

I should back up a little because it was a pretty interesting night. So Irishman was 24, originally from Ireland and going to law school here, had a very sexy accent, a twinkle in his eye and a baby face. I was immediately attracted because he could have looked like Mickey Rourke and I would have still loved him. I am a SUCKER for an accent.

Anyway, we talked for a chunk of the night. He was so adorable. Like a little brother. He told us Midwestern women intimidate him because we’re so honest and real. I pinched his cheeks. I honestly thought there was nothing more there than chit chat and him putting up with the old lady chatting him up at a bar. Where there were people his own age! Clearly I was not drunk enough to be overconfident.

I think he was pretty drunk. Which, interesting to note, he talked slower, which was better since it is hard to understand an Irish accent sometimes. At one point, his buddy was talking to Lara and he says “so when are we going back to your place?” And then I laughed and laughed and laughed! Mr. Innocent, “oh-Midwestern-women-frighten-me”, was fixin’ to get into my pants. So I did what any immature 32 year old would do, I told Lara and this other dude how Mr. Innocent isn’t really so innocent! And we laughed….

But the Irishman got MAD! He didn’t like that I was ruining his game! What if people start talking? He’ll never hook up with anyone again with his innocent act! So I apologized because he was really upset and had that sad puppy dog look in his twinkling eyes. Sucker. Right here. (points to self.)

And then? He decided he was heading home because he was a little wobbly. So we all said our goodbyes and that was that. One of Lara’s friends was like “did he get your number?” And I’m like “nope. He just flirted with me all night and then left! Silly kids!” Like I mentioned, he was flirty and touchy-touchy, but I honestly didn’t think he was interested.

About 15 minutes later, Irishman came back into the bar. And we were all “he’s baaaack!” He comes over to me and is all “do you know how long I’ve been outside waiting for you?” And I tell him “well, if you’re wanting someone to go with you, you kind of have to SAY something.” Kids. *eye roll*

So we left. He didn’t want to go to his place. I didn’t really want him at my place, since it was not clean. Also, Aunt Flo was in town, so it wasn’t like we were going to be doing much of anything anyway. I told him this much because why should he come all the way up north to my place when he’s not going to be getting any?

He apparently thought he could change my mind. Oh kids, they are so adorable.

We end up making out in the cab. And I’m not drunk enough at this point to be OK with this. Because I’m the Cab Driver Whisperer. And for some reason, this weirds me out. But whatever, I go with the flow. We get to my place. I drink a huge glass of water and ask him if he wants anything. He wants another beer. And I’m reminded, YET AGAIN, that there is a large age difference between us. (Also, I have a pub crawl I have to get up for the next day, so I need to actually be able to get up.)

We sit on the couch and chat for awhile. Until he gets antsy and wants to “go to bed.” So I remind him that all we’re going to be doing is sleeping. Not “sleeping”. He still thinks he’s going to convince me otherwise.

Yada, yada, yada, after some making out and him getting pissed that I won’t “sleep” with him, he tells me he’s going. Because, and I swear I can’t make this up, he has really nice sheets at home. They are Egyptian cotton. And he can’t sleep on my apparently crappy sheets.*

I just laugh. And I call him a cab. He tries unsuccessfully one more time to woo me, to no avail, and then huffs off, literally like stomps out of my place in a huff, and says he’ll just wait outside for the cab no matter how long it takes.

And then I go to bed laughing and think “THIS is why I have a blog. Because I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.”

*Did you all ever see that movie with Brittany Murphy and Dakota Fanning, where Brittany is the nanny and she dates this rock star who makes up a song about her about “sheets of Egyptian cotton”? I’ve had that song in my head all weekend. (Uptown Girls! You can hear the song here!)

Normally my birthday is my favorite day of the year. As you might have guessed, because I am a blogger who shares my personal stories on the internet because I am a famewhore, I kind of like attention. So nothing is better than a whole day ALL ABOUT ME!

This year, not so much. One, I’m starting to feel older and had a few “what am I doing with my life? I should have accomplished more by now” panic moments in the last few weeks. On top of it, being unemployed, I haven’t much felt like partying and celebrating. I’ve felt like drinking, but have not felt like showering.  So it wasn’t really my desire to go out and celebrate. Which is why I didn’t send out the evite until a few days before and why most people had plans and couldn’t make it.

But I went. And I had a great time. It was a small party, but we had a good time last Friday in advance celebration of my birthday.

My mom and my friends braved the HORRIBLE rain and drank some libations with me and put up with my drunken slurring and occasional spitting.

After the first bar, my friend Shelly and I headed to a bar in my neighborhood and we caught up and got into a discussion about her situation with a guy she had met recently who had not called back. He happens to be a Chicago cop, so when a police car rolled by the bar, we decided to beckon them to come in. No, really. I was waving at them to come in. They just thought we were waving and probably drunk. So they waved back and they were feeling really good because well, I’m stacked.

So what would a normal person do after that? They would just laugh at the situation. Not me. I was drunk. I blew them a kiss.

(Re-enacted for the purposes of hilarity.)

Sunday was my actual birthday and I had plans to go to a townie bar on the South Side with some of my friends from my old job to watch the Bears game. We drank A LOT of these buckets.

We watched the Bears lose, stayed way too long and too many “locals” bought me shots. It is a good thing I do not have a job to go to. Because I just got silly drunk.

And then I drank so many bomb shots (Cherry Bombs and Jager Bombs), too many Coors Lights and then decided it was a good idea to give my phone number to a guy they call White Rob. Why do they call him that, you ask? Because White Rob is white and they don’t want to confuse him with Black Rob, who is black. All who probably spend too much time at the same bar.

I’m pretty sure my friend Ruby and I are going to take a break from this place for awhile. We overindulged and are too close to becoming regulars. And that is a goal to save for my 32nd birthday.

See the rest of the drunken debauchery photo evidence here.

Clearly that didn’t happen last week. In fact, I think I regressed because I only blogged once and didn’t even sign on to Google Reader. The outcome? Irritated people who want to make sure I didn’t get swallowed by a sink hole and/or had less stairs to climb to my third-floor-now-first-floor apartment. And also? Over 600 posts to read on Google Reader. Which I made a feeble attempt to start looking at. But then my 13 hours of reality TV in my DVR were calling my name. And my bed. Because I needed a nap. And keep them coming.

I also realized I might have a slight addiction to blogs. And should maybe get some help. Because after a week without reading blogs, I get all twitchy. And twitchy + hung over = a hot mess.

This past week also turned me into an 80-year old woman. The following are signs that you’ve become an old lady, besides the fist shaking and prune juice, of course:

• After going dancing on Tuesday and Thursday nights, I realized that at 30, and almost 6-feet tall, I am unable to continue to “get low, get low” on the dance floor. Because once I get down there, I either fall, or I can’t get up.
• Also, “getting low” leads to waking up the next day with quite a pain in my lower back. I’m about three minutes from getting a walker.
• In addition to “getting low” and the inherent ass slapping, I blame the shopping cart and paint the curb dance moves for my condition.
• I said “my condition.”
• At 30, I’m talking about how I can’t do things like I used to.
• I actually yelled at some meddling kids to turn down that infernal racket.
• They were unpacking their groceries.
• I did the Wii fitness test and it told me I was 56.
• I got my newest issue of US Weekly talking about the new crop of stars, including Miley Cyrus. And I asked myself out loud when I got old because when did US Weekly start putting babies on the cover?
• Besides Britney’s babies and their soda-stained teeth.
• All I can talk about is the pain in my back, the queasiness in my stomach and the stupid bump on my lip that I need to get cut out.
• I actually debated this afternoon if 5 PM was too early to go to bed.
• I had the Early Bird Special at the diner down the street.
• I made sure to get the mushroom barley soup because 80-year olds need plenty of fiber.
• I seriously can’t stand up straight because of the pain in my back.
• I’m repeating myself with the same ailments.
• I can’t remember if I brushed my teeth today.
• I got hot when I saw Morley Safer on 60 Minutes.
• I watched 60 minutes.

In other news, my apartment is fine. The cats are fine. The one actually found hidden paper to eat as opposed to the stuff out in the OPEN. And they left their token pile of puke for me to clean up. Just to show me who’s boss.

But no damage, I found parking and I learned a good lesson. Water main breaking = lots of water. And in winter with additional moisture from snow = lots and lots of mud. Like a good three inches outside on the streets and the sidewalks. Thankfully, it looks like they are just about done and they are set to clean the streets on Monday.

So thank you, ALL of you, for your concern and listening to my venting. It warms my bitter soul.

And finally, since I am heading to bed soon because it is well past my bedtime of 5 PM, I want to give a BIG WELCOME to Marianne’s new addition, Nathan Jacob! Congratulations to her and the Targo on their bouncing baby boy! I can’t wait to meet him in person! Since I’ve already offered my babysitting services (because the complete stranger route goes over well every time) (well it worked for Heather B. and Amalah). And I also promise to bring brownies and guacamole.

So now that I’m down off my birthday high. (Which sucks, by the way. Does this mean no more free drinks?) I figured I should share the stories from the ACTUAL BIRTHDAY WEEKEND.

Except, well, I really don’t have a lot. A lot of booze was consumed. Mostly by me. And Rich. I got to see a lot of people I haven’t seen in awhile. It was freakin’ hot as hell. The Devils won, and I didn’t go to the game. (Please don’t take away my Sun Devil card, Sparky.) And basically, it was a great, great birthday. The best actual birthday I’ve ever had. Followed closely by my fake birthday.

And I feel like I should do bullets or something. Since it seems so apropos for a summary of sorts.

• Lori and Mike were excellent hosts as always. And they shall receive a gift in the mail for being such good hosts. This is a note to all of you, if you let me stay at your house, you may receive a gift. It depends on how nice I’m feeling. And if you make me coffee in the morning.
• They have a puppy, Lola. I have a new best friend.
• Totally off-topic, but I love my new laptop. I’m sitting in front of the TV, actually facing the TV, and writing from the couch. When I get that wireless router, this will be moved to my bed. Because I can.
• The lady on the plane was totally reading my 30 blog post?over my shoulder as I was typing. I think she thought I was weird. And wouldn’t you for writing letters to yourself? Or someone else? Either way you cut it, it is a weird thing to read over someone’s shoulder.
• That will teach you, whore, for reading over my shoulder.
• Some dude was doing the same thing on my way back. As I was waiting for the plane to take me back to Chicago. Either that or he was watching the football game. But it wasn’t really that interesting (the game, not my writing.) And doesn’t everyone want to look over my shoulder when I’m writing something that is clearly highly entertaining.
• He should have just been glad I wasn’t looking at vibrators.
• So you want to know what I did on my actual birthday? Well, I was up until midnight Arizona time, so Mike & Lori wished me a happy birthday. They went to bed. I published my birthday post. And then I slept. And slept. And slept. Because I could. And it was my birthday.
• After having coffee made for me and a nice bowl of cereal, I checked emails. And all the nice comments on my blog. Including one from Lori. Who was sitting right outside my door. (You guys are so awesome! My black heart is starting to actually beat these days.)
• We had lunch at Dilly’s Deli. Which is a MUST for everyone who visits Arizona. Oh so tasty. Trust me.
• And then I met Rich out at Maloney’s for drinks. At 4 in the afternoon. Again, because I could. Plus, it was after 5 in Chicago.
• And then we went to Four Peaks Brewery. Because if you’re 30 and in Tempe, this is like one place it is okay for you to hang out at. And you won’t feel old. Because college students think Bud Light is good beer.
• And we stayed there. Until a little after 11. And I was donezo before midnight on my birthday. Because am old now. Must conserve energy. For the drinking for the next 60 years.
• Saturday I visited with Cindy and her new baby Casey. Who is so cute. And looks just like his big brother Cole.
• I love babies. That aren’t mine.
• And then she introduced me to my new lover, Nintendo Wii. And I was smitten. From the first time I held that little contraption in my hand.
• That was until I almost got my ass beat by a four-year old in tennis.
• A win that I did indeed celebrate. Because four, schmore. I wiped the court with you, Cole!
• But I bet his arm wasn’t sore the next morning.
• Saturday night I went to Lori’s sister’s bachelorette party. She’s getting married on Saturday. And that is all I will say about Liz. And marriage. And Korea.
• It was good times. Drinks! Dancing! Pink Taco for dinner!
• That will never get old. They have actual Pink Tacos on the menu. The shells are pink. And when you’re in a big group and the waiter comes out and asks “Pink Taco? Anyone have a Pink Taco?” to a group of ALL women, the mature thing is NOT to 1) giggle like a 10-year old or B) keep repeating it. Quite loudly.
• Sunday was spent recovering. With 4 BIG beers. And football. At a place called Old Chicago. It was like being at home watching the Bears game. About 90% of the TVs were on the Bears game and the place erupted when the Bears scored.
• Although I was the only one singing the fight song.
• “We’ll never forget the way you thrilled the nation, with your T formation.”
• And I must have had a good time, because I went to weigh-in tonight (for my big fight) and I gained five pounds. Totally moved me up a weight class. Now George Foreman is totally going to kick my ass.

Anyway, enjoy the photos from the weekend. And the fact that I must be 30 since it was so uneventful. I didn’t even fall or bruise myself in any way.

Being a grown up totally blows.