As I write, I am just concluding the week of birthday. This year it had a different context, juxtaposed against a background of the showroom closing and the hint of possible unemployment, although I reiterate that I am assured I have a job. So lets focus on one drama at a time.
Again the subject of West Hollywood math is introduced. Here, counting is done thusly: 37, 38, 39, 1000. By this formula, I am a thousand and eight. While that number may not look bad on a car odometer, it is a bit daunting for a personal ad. Not that I'll ever do that, but I digress.
Anyway, despite the good wishes and the week of being taken to dinner and drinks and drinks (that part I liked), I'm just not happy about the thousand and eight part.
So I've decided to lie about my age. I'll tell people I'm a thousand and two.
