milking the birthday

So, I really milked the 30th birthday thing. I feel like I shouldn't be celebrating another birthday fo r years. Maybe I won't. Maybe I'll just stay 30 and then jump straight to 35; what's the point of allthose numbers in between, anyway? After the weekend's debauchery, at least the middle-aged version of it, I got birthday emails, cards & calls for several days---so it felt like a birth-week. Not much special went on the day of (although I think I already mentioned that, due to a stupid exam, I missed John Legend) but I went to dinner with the gang on Friday night to finalize the celebrations. I loved dinner---Nagasaki is a Japanese steakhouse that actually has Asian people working there, as opposed to Benihana, which seems to employ Hispanics exclusively. We had a lovely time (most of us) and I got to have a lot of people around who I have known for years but don't see often enough. This just in: everyone should be sitting on the nearest available porch, drinking beer and watching neighbors do yardwork. I'm gonna go follow my own advice now. Ciao.