Heather. Welcome to adult, self-respecting 30. I wish I was in Texas to buy you a shot.
or a glass of wine.
or a beer.
but you probably don’t drink much anymore.
Because now you’re 30. Back then, before 30, you were like “What, Megan? I can’t hear you over the sound of more alcohol coming!”
Back then, you had a drink to match every outfit.
And remember how we never got to hang out, just us, because you kept making new friends?
Phew. Thank God you’re 30.
No more hiding liquor in your suitcase!
Or getting trashed and gambling away your entire Wachovia Savings Account!
I can finally get some sleep and stop worrying that you’re intoxicated for your volunteer shift at the underage tattoo parlor.
I will say, you were always such a good sport about putting on that life jacket before we went out to the bars.
Actually, I’m gonna miss the old H. But it’s for the best. Now that’s we’re both 30, and you’re a responsible teacher, and I’m a…personal assistant… we certainly can’t have this happening anymore, can we?
Happy Birthday, Heather! I’ll see you in December. Whatever are we going to do New Years Eve now that we don’t drink?
