A Turkish Birthday
We’ve been very good friends for over thirteen years now, which is quite an achievement by itself, seeing as I am a lovingly insufferable twit.
Even though we’ve been friends for so long, it always seems weird to me that I’m older than you if only by a month. This could possibly be because I know how old we REALLY are (averaging about 5 now). Maybe it’s also because you’re already adventuring your way in university and being all grown up -ahem- while I slob around at home, watching 88 episodes of Gossip Girl. Maybe. Or perhaps it’s because I have some great memories of us doing our ‘numa numa’ dance on the bridge over botanical gardens and rocking it out to La Cucaracha.
Either way, I would like to wish you a very happy eighteenth birthday. I would tell you to have a great night and get drunk, but the drinking age in the states is an appalling 21 years, so don’t get caught
P.S. I’m in the middle of Turkey right now and have no internet, which is why I have stolen my workaholic of a dad’s blackberry to write this email. Gosh, these keys are TINY!