Yeah. It’s true. I’m writing this naked. I’m telling you this not in an aw-yeah-baby-I’m-naked kinda way, but in more of a yippee-I’m-untethered-by-clothes kinda way. More than that, I’m also poolside, eating a monstrous slice of melting red velvet cake, and reading a gossip magazine under the fluttering hummingbirds and spotlight sun of serene Palm Springs.
This is what turning 30 is all about: A birthday suit in a private yard. No one can see me. And nobody knows that my ass is red not only from the sun but from 10-12 high-intensity cannon balls (Incidentally, I did not actually wake up in a cannon; I simply performed skilled cannon-like jumps into the deep end.).
I deserve this because this is where I spent my birthday last year: asleep on a cement bed under a mosquito net, not even allowed to be naked in the shower (monks can be such a drag sometimes). But now I’m balls out. And that’s what life is all about. Hey! Finally I’m making a contribution to quote boards throughout the internet: ‘Balls out. It’s what life is all about.’ Spread the word. Please.
What life is not about is whining. And I must apologize for being so whiney about entering this 4th decade of life. I hate those girls I occasionally meet in bars who say, ‘Oh my Gawd! I’m totally turning 21 tonight! I’m so old.’ And now I see I’ve been doing the same. So, I apologize. But not really. Because turning 30 is a big friggin deal and deserves nudity and cake. Balls out, baby. Balls out.
Note: I was not Nudey McNudle when my friends were here. That would have been awkward.
Also note: Meredith Buzas shot this amazing promo photo for Fox’s newest show, ‘I want to get naked in front of my friends but it might be awkward because we’re really comfortable with each other but mainly boob comfortable and not vagina comfortable yet.’
