Maybe you haven't heard of Kyle MacDonald, but I have. I even let my daughter offer to trade our living room chair to him. But her chair was trumped by Kyle's ultimate goal: a house. She is of course disappointed, but I'm working on that. It is, after all, an unfurnished house. But, childhood heartbreak aside, I am happy for Kyle. I could describe his quest but it's all over if you want to google him so I'll let it go at that. The sad part is, I will never ever have the sort of spontaneous adventure and stardom he has achieved, and that realization is what makes my joy for him bittersweet.
It is my thirtieth birthday. It is also the third year in a row that my father has not called at 6am to wish me a happy birthday, but death does tend to make people blow off traditions that way. So far the birthday has been okay. My brother called yesterday to say he went in on a gift with our mom, and jokingly asked if I was 30, saying it as if it were 60. I told him he's losing his hair. It wasn't until then that he realized that I actually was turning thirty. Maybe that means I don't look it, but more likely it's indicative of my brother's interest in me, or in the math required to add two years to his own age.
They say thirty is the new twenty, but I don't feel twenty, or even thirty. I feel 40. Or at least as I imagine forty to feel like. I feel almost menopausal. I realize that the characters on Friends were in their thirties. I realize that thirty is the minimum age required to play a high school student in any Hollywood project. But I'm more Jill Taylor than Monica Bing. Debra Barone, not Donna Pinciotti. Have I mentioned yet the Hell it is to have a best friend who looks like Donna Pinciotti? Yep, Jame is Donna, and I am Kitty. Not even Midge, Kitty. And for everyone who didn't follow That 70's Show, disregard the last couple of lines. I don't yet know how to make the names turn into little blue links to Google search results. Yeah, I'm too old to work the internet. I can remember when it was just Bill Clinton's promise of a future "information superhighway".
I'd like some comments on this page of mine. So, anyone with a story of a thirtieth birthday meltdown, post it here. I need to take comfort in knowing I'm not alone here. PS- the first person to send me an over-the-hill e-card gets hexed by this old crone.