I recently turned 30 and for some reason, I thought I'd all of a sudden stop making stupid decisions, and turn into this wise, calm creature. Neither wise, nor calm have occurred.
To celebrate the year of three of us turning 30 and one turning 35, my three best friends and I recently went to a local restaurant. I thought that 30 was special enough to break out the fancy pants peep toe heels, that I have had for about 6 years now, thinking that seeing as we are all "old", we wouldn't be seeking a night on the town. How wrong was I....
After dinner, we decided to seek alternative entertainment and hit up the new, hip, trendy place in town. This was a mere 1km away - I've since Googled it! I protested, as I knew my poor, soft feet would. But, these girls are a convincing bunch, so we decided to walk the 1km on the rugged terrain (flat footpath with a few stones and Telstra pits). By the time we got to the new bar, I was all but crying in agony. I could feel my toes disintegrating in my heels. The girls needed a comfort stop (they needed to pee) and we found a bench to sit down on. I carefully slid my heels off and was confronted by big toes so mangled, that almost 4 weeks on, they are still healing.
My sister-friend (the sister you always wanted if you could pick sisters) and I decided to call it a night, especially after another friend (aged 30) quite loudly dissed "The bloody youth of today!". A quick call to hubby and he was on his way to pick us up. Thankfully, we were able to give SF a lift home, as her hubby had their two little ones tucked in bed, and my own DD was off on a sleepover with the grandparents.
Whilst awaiting our chariot, we were treated to the sights and sounds of the next generation (and possibly past generations, but not me...). There, in the middle of the road, where the centre parking is, leaning over a garden bed, was a figure with their hair being held back while performing oral fertilisation. To my left was a lonely young woman watching the two figures across the road. When the chestnut maned figure stood up, he walked back over towards his female companion, while being congratulatory slapped on the back by his best mate who'd held his hair back while he spewed. The charming young fellow then chased the young lass around whilst making horrible dry retching sounds.
The night ended with hubby making me walk another 500m in those stupid bloody shoes. But I was tucked up in bed by 10pm.
I guess turning 30 has made me wiser - I know the body and mind can't function on the few hours sleep it used to!
I know this isn't the best return to blogging, but baby steps, people. Baby steps.