My birthday is this week.  The Big Three-Three.  I remember when birthdays were a big deal.  Sixteen, my first car.  Twenty-one, hell bent on damaging my liver (legally).  Those were big deals.  Thirty, when you “really” become a grown-up.  Wow, was that a big day, spent in a hospital attached to various and asundry monitors, nervously awaiting Wog’s arrival?!  (Talk about plunging head first into adulthood… sheesh!)  Thirty-three.  Notsomuch. 

Even though I’ll spend the day blowing up  inflatable monkeys, counting paper plates, and buying bananas and juice boxes, all the while pretending that it doesn’t bother me  in the least that I am not propped up in some spa, reading whether or not Rob & Kristen really are a couple, while someone rubs my feet and paints my toes a racy shade of red for my night out on the town with a very hot geek, I’ll be dreaming of of a day that’s all about me… a day that includes:

1.  Weekend (or at least overnight) admission for two to Camp Spoilalot (aka Grandmama’s & Grandaddy’s)
2.  Some sort of spa package that includes mani/pedi/massage.
3.  The Mystic Tan
4.  This dress
5.  These shoes
6.  This bag
7.  This necklace
8.  Dinner here
9.  Drinks here
10.  10 to 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep

For more fun Top Tens, head over to OhAmanda!

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