Let Me Show You My 4-0h Face!
Mar. 30th, 2010 12:01 amToday, I am 40 years old.
We have a saying here in the D: 'Every day with your head above the dirt is a good day.' I've had 14,600 good days, and I consider myself blessed.
Sometimes, I do wonder how I made it this far. There have been some crazy times. Skydiving, motorcycle stunts, train dodging and that time I tried to surf and nearly drown, bitchslapped by a ginormous wave.
This is my seventh year in fandom, and I wanted you all to know how special you are to me. You've stuck with me through the good times and the bad, and it's been like a marriage of sorts. One big, squishy porny marriage.
So, pull up a chair one and all. A sofa. A chaise. A recliner. A barstool. Let's have a party! There's champagne, absinthe, Laphroaig and Malfoy-approved brandy. Tell me about your fortieth birthdays. Or tell me how you plan on spending yours when the time comes. Ha ha - or kindly tell me to fuck the hell off, because you are NOWHERE near your fortieth and plan on staying twenty-one forever.
This year I plan on going to Japan, returning to school and WRITING SOME DAMNED FIC. And not fussing over grey fucking hairs. A good dye job works wonders, yes?
Somewhere, I know my mother's looking down on me and wishing her baby a happy birthday. This, of course, would be followed by a frown and a 'You're 40 now, it's high time you took that stupid ring out of your lip.'
*nearly sets a big fucking cake on fire with a shitload of candles*
Who's down for c and ic?
--P
We have a saying here in the D: 'Every day with your head above the dirt is a good day.' I've had 14,600 good days, and I consider myself blessed.
Sometimes, I do wonder how I made it this far. There have been some crazy times. Skydiving, motorcycle stunts, train dodging and that time I tried to surf and nearly drown, bitchslapped by a ginormous wave.
This is my seventh year in fandom, and I wanted you all to know how special you are to me. You've stuck with me through the good times and the bad, and it's been like a marriage of sorts. One big, squishy porny marriage.
So, pull up a chair one and all. A sofa. A chaise. A recliner. A barstool. Let's have a party! There's champagne, absinthe, Laphroaig and Malfoy-approved brandy. Tell me about your fortieth birthdays. Or tell me how you plan on spending yours when the time comes. Ha ha - or kindly tell me to fuck the hell off, because you are NOWHERE near your fortieth and plan on staying twenty-one forever.
This year I plan on going to Japan, returning to school and WRITING SOME DAMNED FIC. And not fussing over grey fucking hairs. A good dye job works wonders, yes?
Somewhere, I know my mother's looking down on me and wishing her baby a happy birthday. This, of course, would be followed by a frown and a 'You're 40 now, it's high time you took that stupid ring out of your lip.'
*nearly sets a big fucking cake on fire with a shitload of candles*
Who's down for c and ic?
--P