i'm old.

it's officially may again. aka, christmas for the rootabega clan. my nephew just turned 13! (holycrap marbs is going thru puberty im dying). my mom, 60. sister, somewhere in her 40s. mothers day. and then, yers truly ages in 2 weeks or some shit. dang, 28 sounds old. i just wish i had balloons and kool-aid mustaches again, really. this getting old thang sucks without the help of cupcakes at school and mr. montgomery's 4th grade phys. ed 'spanking machine.'

i gotta admit, im long overdue for some family time. stress always gets thebest/worst/everything/of/me, so when i'm exhausted/overexerted, sometimes i just need to hide with my criminally insane pack of genes and pretend to hate every second of it. lately, im exhausted to the nines, and if it werent for my supersweet-but-spills-wine-on-me-in-my-sleep-and-pretends-to-wipe-it-off-me-and-says-nothing-until-i-confess-i-have-a-purple-'funguy'-rash-boyfriend, i'd be a mess times a million.

such is life.

got a couple big weekends ahead of me. time to lay low, relaxxx to the maxxx. have some brews, good food, good company, and hopefully turn off the smartphone and ignore the fact that my job consumes 95% of my existence.

one of these weekends is the celebration? (nah, more like, stubborn stance of declaration) of my birth. or something. but instead of getting krunk as hell before 60% of my guests show up and then one yanks my iPod party, ima grill out on that deck of mine and move that shit over to beachwood. memorial day wknd. shit will be bananas, ya'll. but really, i don't give two cahoots over my birthday. instead, i'm just stoked as all fucking hell to see A) my family and B) my friends and C) have 5 days without having to go to michigan avenue in a pencil skirt and heels with a fake ms. jodi root smile plastered on my face.

the one perk to bdays? early birthday presents. what can i say? i've got the best dude, ever.