Oh Shit.

In two years and two weeks exactly I'm going to be thirty.
Two years and two weeks ago it was April 2002 and that seems like just a few weeks ago.
Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck.

Theres a very small comfort in knowing that I will in fact be the last member of Lettuce to turn thirty when the time comes, but reduced further when observed that most of the others have, like, jobs and stuff. One has a husband, and another as good as.
I'm two year and two weeks away from being thirty, I've got about $45 in the bank, am still working in a restaurant for a living, have no boyfriend and still haven't finished my thesis.
Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck.

I have had some adventures though.
I went to Turkey and bought a carpet, got off my chops & went clubbing in Bali, went bungy jumping in Greece, have sat on the stones where Hippocrates used to teach, watched to sunset over the Caldera in Santorini, had a yorkshire pudding in Yorkshire, bought a copy of Wuthering Heights at the Bronte's old house, got busted by Greek customs authorities for being an overstayer, sat on the top front seat of a double-decker London bus, walked across London Bridge, seen Salvador Dali's works at the Tate Gallery and got pissed with rock stars in Auckland.
Thats not counting the usual chaos too.
Phew. Feel much better now.

Cheers.

57 days.