My Last Day of being a 30-something

I just realised that I'll never have another chance to throw a hissy fit while I'm under 40. So, go away, you all suck.

The Bear gets some novel body piercing.

Done (and photographed, thanks Kim!) at work. I said to him, "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! That's terrible! I hope you washed your hands before you went to the doctor." Of course, he never saw a doctor. He tells me he pulled it out with his teeth.

2 days to go.

New toy.

When you're home alone nights with a 3 year old, you can't just leave to go out walking. If you go for a walk during the day, then you have to go slow and stop every ten seconds while she stops to pick up a leaf, look at an ant, say hello to the dog that's going apeshit 2 inches away with only a 2 foot high picket fence between them, etc.

So, I got myself this baby:

Unfortunately, as you can see, a certain someone seems to think that it's hers, not mine, and figured it was just the thing to help her perfect her goose-stepping technique. Don't be surprised, all 3 year olds are Nazi's - or at least totalitarian dictators.

3 days to go.

Hungry?

Would you like fries with that?

*Edit* Nearly forgot! 4 days to go.

Alien Update!

I think they come in peace.

5 days to go... *twitch*

You'll never forgive me for this one...

6 days...

Really exciting news! Magical Trevor 4 is out! Again they failed to capture the downright catchiness of "beans, lots of beans, lots of beans, lots of beans". True to form, though, they got a toilet joke in.

Too Tired...

...because just got home from long, but fun, day in Melbourne. I've started a countdown though, so I feel compelled to continue the countdown anyway: 7 days to go.

People have been responding to my desponding with various cheer up messages. (Of course, all prefaced with, "You're only as old as you feel," which, admittedly, I did ask for. That, however, won't stop me from making a hit list with every single one of you on it. Although I'm far too nice to actually 'hit' anyone, I will keep it for future reference.)

One of the more interesting 'cheer up' messages was this:

But cheer up, on my 40th I got into punch ups, shoved whatever I could lay hands on into my system, and somehow ended up at home at 5am calling a hooker. She was about 50 seconds into her routine when I called it off. It was about as erotic as cleaning your fingernails. You'd be hard put to do worse than that. I think I also crashed the car.

Now, most of this sounds pretty routine: sex, drugs and rock and roll(ing with the punches). My favourite bit is he *thinks* he crashed the car. He's invited to the beach shack for birthday drinkies, but I'll be making sure the car keys are well hidden.