29. Prime number.

According to my books, any birthday amounting to the aforementioned cipher demands celebration. It’s a mathematical law I much respect. Plus a little party never killed nobody and any excuse is good to have sushi and champagne.

With that in mind, I threw myself a party last Saturday. Shamelessly. Totally legit. I hollered “Come and party with me bitches!” and a bunch of peeps turned up on my doorstep in the not-so-shady “1210”.

Sushi: on the table. Pink champagne: in our glasses. Music: loud. One cat and a half: Nestor (everywhere) and Igor (under the couch). Confetti: yes. A patio: for the smokers. A bunch of amazing memories to keep forever or until future birthdays make me forget.

To those who joined: big big thanks. Especially to those who came from far! (Hello, Sara). To those who missed it: look what you missed!


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