Did you know, dear reader, that I threatened to arrive into this world too early (at 5 months) and emergency intervention, which saw my parents almost drive across a field to get to a hospital on time, was necessary to save me? The effort, I think you will agree, was worth it, though I'm not sure if my parents felt the same at the time, given that I looked like Damien Thorn in all of my early childhood photos.
I could launch into an orgy of piteous self-examination here about where my life is going, but I can't. I have too much preparation to do. Dinner is here, followed by drinks, and then maybe this club. Well, that's the plan anyway.
Birthday wishes have been coming thick and fast. I have also received birthday e-mails from gaydar and bearprofiles.com. Bearprofiles actually put you on their homepage for the day that it's your birthday, so you get lots of mails from woofy bears in Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania and other such states telling me that 'I can chase them anytime'. In 'bear' parlance, I'm think I'm known as a chaser, a title I'm not entirely sure about, given that it can have groupie connotations. Anyway, I think I need to move country.
Interestingly, while that scene is alive and well and thriving in the good old U.S of A, it's still pretty much in its infancy over here, especially in Ireland, where it only arose a few years ago, and is currently in danger of dying out again.
I got entangled with a species of the male persuasion last weekend. While I was back at his house, I noticed the
Anyway, whatever. I think I shall make my twenties last for another ten years. In the words of a singer in a famous group:
"I'll never grow up, at least not in the conventional sense. I faced the real world when I was thirteen and I denied it".
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