Ugh. 7 days. That is how much of my twenties remain. I've got to do one last keg stand before it becomes completely socially unacceptable. I accept my thirties graciously, but I refuse to become a fan of Thirtysomething, and I refuse to ever be labeled as such. Think of it this way: I'm shaking hands with my thirties, but with my other hand, I'm flipping them the bird.
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