Ok, so it’s my birthday in 10 days. And I’ll be 28. Twenty-fucking-eight. When I was little, I assumed I’d be married with a couple of kids by this point. Honestly, ten years ago I probably thought that too. But I’m ok with where I’m at: a nice place to live, a mostly good job, and totally amazing friends. Sure, there are a few things I’d change but, for the most part, things are ok.
And I get to see Lana Del Rey on my birthday. If she sings Off To The Races, my head may explode.
But anyway, even though my friends and family always give me WAAAAAY better gifts than I could ever pick for myself, it just wouldn’t feel like a birthday countdown without a wish list. So here it is:
Yes, yes, I know, I have expensive taste.