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Man…. I only have 16 more days of “early-twenties” left in my life. I am officially depressed about this. I was getting ready this morning and I realized that I am covered in age spots and tiny little wrinkles around my eyes. And of course I have that big wrinkle on my forehead. And I could swear I’m getting some corner-of-the-mouth wrinkles, probably from all the frowning I do. The skin around my eyes is all dry and I finally know what those wrinkle cream commercials are talking about when they refer to “crepe-ing” or however you spell it. My eyes are crepe-y!

I don’t want to turn 26. I want to stay 25 forever! Do you remember when you were about 16 and you would see your friends’ older siblings who were maybe 22 and think, “Sweet jesus that guy is practically ancient! He must have grown-up problems like what kind of beer to buy and what kind of clothes to wear from Abercrombie.” And then when you got to college and everyone over about 22 seemed like an old fart who had no party left in them? 25 year olds simply cannot party… duh. They are too busy raising families and dealing with arthritis. And I’m pretty sure people over 30 didn’t exist in my universe until very recently. I was in denial or something.

My last birthday really sucked. Turning a “quarter century” just isn’t fun, no matter how you look at it. Well, maybe it would be fun if you were some kind of cancer survivor and living until 25 was an accomplishment. I just remember waking up on my 25th birthday and thinking how much my back hurt. And how much I needed a strong cup of coffee. And then my dad told me that when he turned 25, he cried. Oy vey. To make matters worse, John’s birthday isn’t until May. So this means I am officially “older” than him. HE’S the spring chicken. HE’S as fresh as a daisy. Not ME.

I try to remember my wrinkle creams every morning and night, but I guess I still have that youthful habit of passing out in bed with my contacts in, my face unwashed, and the tv on. I guess it doesn’t really matter, because according to Consumer Reports, wrinkle creams really don’t do a bit of good– and they tested them all. Just wear sunscreen and keep your skin hydrated, they say. That really takes all the fun out of it, don’t you think? I liked hanging on to the hope that a miracle-in-a-jar existed.

So when I wake up on November 29th, I will officially enter the “mid-twenties,” or for you pessimists out there, the “late-twenties.” (I cringe even typing that.) I expect to see this in the mirror:


I will let you know how the birthday goes. But don’t be surprised if my keyboard malfunctions due to excessive crocodile tear exposure.


My mom keeps asking me for my birthday/Christmas list. I think the past few years, we’ve just gone shopping and I get a nice pair of shoes (since, as I’ve mentioned, I can’t fathom spending more than $50 on a pair) and a sweater or two. But this year, I have NO clue what I want! I do need a new pair of shoes… I have been wearing my current pair for at least 3.5 years. And I can always use a nice sweater to bolster my non-existent wardrobe. But these things seem so blah. I honestly can’t think of a single thing to put on a gift list this year. I do want some things that might be fun to have (or I just don’t feel like shopping for), but they don’t seem “list-worthy.”

1. I think Guitar Hero for the Wii sounds fun. However, I don’t really want to put it on my list because I’m afraid I wouldn’t play it enough and then I’d just feel guilty. Plus, I don’t want to turn into this guy:

2. Luggage for the Ireland trip. This is lame though. And we can always borrow some from my parents.

3. Perfume. I am 100% out of perfume and now I just smell like shampoo and deodorant. But I don’t know what I want and I am too indecisive. Last time I was at Sephora, I spent an hour smelling stuff and ended up at home with a perfume I hated and a wallet that was $75 lighter.

4. A new comforter. I hate our current duvet, but if we got a new one, our matching curtains and bath ensemble would then look out of place.

5. Christmas ornaments. I LOVE shopping for Christmas ornaments… last year I reorganized and went to a blue and green theme. But it seems like a silly thing to ask for- especially since I can only enjoy them for one month a year.

6. Spa gift card. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for an hour-long massage. This is the kind of thing I just don’t buy for myself. But at the same time, it feels wasteful to spend all that money on such a fleeting pleasure. Which is probably exactly why I don’t buy those things for myself.

7. An iPhone. Why not, right? Besides, I want to feel this triumphant over spending $400 on technology that will be obsolete in mere months thanks to Steve Jobs:

8. Take Maggie to the vet. No, this is not my to-do list. But I am so tired of spending money to figure out WTF is wrong with Maggie’s skin when no one can give a decent answer. Maybe Dr. Mom can just give me a huge tub of Bactroban so that I can dip Maggie in it daily.

9. Textbooks. This is lame (just as all the others are), but law school text books add up and I hate spending money on that kind of thing. What’s on the docket for next semester? Civil Procedure, Constitutional Law, Advanced Legal Writing, and Property. These actually all sound interesting to me… we shall see.

10. A sweater. And we’re back to square one.


I guess I will focus on shoes. This is pretty close to what I’ve been wearing forever:

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I also have the shoes on the right (except mine are more shoe-like, with a tongue and more fabric… less ballet-slipper-y). These are the two pairs I wear 95% of the time. The other pair is a tall black boot with a high heel, but since I am already tall (5’11”), I avoid those because they make my pants too short.

What I REALLY want is a black boot-ish shoe that is not high heeled, that looks polished, and that does not go all the way up my calf. I swear I didn’t mean for this post to turn into a shoe odyssey, but well here we are. This is what I have found so far, thanks to Zappos:


I am pretty sure #1 is closest to what I want, but are they totally ugly? I like #2 the best, but there are those damn heels again. As I have said before, I don’t know how these things work… Should I just stick with what I have? I mean, no one looks at my feet anyway. I should just stop worrying and get a massage, right?