i’m turning 31 this week. and i always like my birthday because why would i not?

I have no issue getting older: i’m really into it. but, the more birthdays you have, the more you remember, and today I’ve been thinking about my birthday when I turned 20. I lived alone in the Czech republic, well, I lived with a social climbing fake writer/fake drunkard, and a very sweet girl from New Zealand, Natasha. The apartment was amazing.

My friend Monica made it her business to give me a great 20th birthday. She made me get my first spa massage (it was awesome), took me to the czech holiday fair, made me drink a couple cups of grog (less awesome, maybe really awesome) and then i think i had a party; I don’t remember really: I just remember walking around with Monica in Staro Meske Namesti.

Monica may or may not have given me a present. But she did introduce me to Isaac a couple months later. So: um: I majorly owe that girl.


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