Another birthday...will you all stop with the getting older thing?

This is for my friend Justin, who is somewhere in London, hopefully holding onto the last vestiges of both his dignity and sobriety. Or not. On your birthday you're allowed to tell dignity to take the night off...it might get in the way of your good time.

Justin is someone who was part of a memorable junior year abroad in Scotland, though most of it I don't recall, what with all of the red wine I was bathing in on a daily basis. But despite my perpetual haze, he became an important friend. In many ways, his room in our dorm was the place that I felt most myself; I was in a stage of constantly questioning my place in life, and he offered a safe haven and some words of wisdom, like "Just shut up already. You're young and you'll figure it out eventually. Fancy some wine? I snogged someone today...want to hear about it?" (It helped that his rebukes were issued in a British accent. Then we would go draw on Frasier's face since he had passed out in Kari's bed, again, writing "cock" on his forehead. Empirical evidence of Justin's superior maturity.)

Anyhoo, he's now a writer in London living with his longtime love (hi Caroline!) and I hope he's at the beginning of a wonderful birthday weekend. I say sit in a deck chair at the park without regard to what it costs. When the chap in the stupid striped hat/vest combo comes up to charge you for resting your ass, tell him to suck it. It's your birthday and you can do what you want to.