老姐

Today, more than half my LOHAM gang are into their final year of 'still being in their twenties'.

Happy Birthday, Karks.

I still have about 18 months to go. No, just slightly less than 18 months.

I am getting a little bothered.

What do I have to say about my twenties? Nothing much so far.

I hope these next 18 months bring me much better stuff to look back on when I finally hit the big three-O.


My gang and I, we are already making big plans for next year to celebrate the beginning of our third decade of existence.

I don't know what they all have in mind, but they didn't seem quite enthusiastic as I was when I suggested going out to sea on a rented yacht with a male stripper on board.

Quite fun what. Don't like, can throw him off the boat. That will be the fun part. Haha.

Or, how about we rent some big pub and invite all our own friends, and then we declare our proud initiation into the thirties to everyone?

No?

Don't tell me lunch at East Coast Mac, or a trip to Bali, hor.


It's going to be weird being 30.

I won't want to be dating an older man in his thirties, because, like a friend puts it, a man 'still single in his thirties must have got some problem' - like he's too career-minded or what. And he's probably looking for a woman now because he 'feels it's just time to settle down'.

Eeew. Don't want.

Then again, I won't want also to be a thirty-year-old woman dating a twenty-something kid either.

When all else fails, go for the old, rich and dying kind. Preferably a vet. =)