I’m thinking that Plan B is to go back to school. At one point, before I got the ‘buy a franchise’ thing up my ass, was to get an associate’s degree via online from the city’s community college system. They offer what seems to be basically a business management degree. Or I could just get a certification in something.

In what, I have no clue. And my mom did say she’d pay for that. Which is nice but I know I can get a Pell Grant to cover most of it. I just need to figure out what I’d like to study.

Once I get back from my trip, I’ll have to dig around some more.

Oh. Yeah. Vacation.

While it’s not paid (fuck me but I miss that paid vacation thing), I’m going home in a tad under two weeks to celebrate a few things. My mom and stepdad’s wedding anniversary. My high school reunion. My birthday. And of course there is the usual stuffing myself silly with as much seafood as I can.

(Yes there will be food porn pictures. But not here. Elsewhere. Ask if you want to know where to look!)

I went to my 20th and 25th reunions and had a blast. And while I’m sure this one will be fine, I will admit that I’m going with the feeling that I suck at life.

The one thing that I’m really looking forward to is the day after my birthday, I will be at one of the fancy restaurants that does this really cool 3 course $25 meal brunch thing. And .25 cent martinis. I’ve invited friends from college, high school and childhood and all their respective spouses/partners. There will be about 14 people all together. I’m planning on bringing some macrons from work to pass out. Afterwards, the two childhood friends and I will head back to my mom and stepdad’s house to chill out for a bit and catch up on life.

And as always, I’ve saved a day for ME time. Weather permitting (ie not to stupid humid and hot), I’ll go to the Quarter, get a daiquiri (love those open container laws!) for second breakfast and poke in and out of art galleries.

I always treat myself to something for my birthday. Along with my long standing rule of not working on my birthday, I always get myself something. Last year, it was a new book by my favorite writer, Tad Williams. This year?

Back when I was booking the flight, in March or April, I realized that for whatever reason (insert praising appropriate deity here), I hit the jack pot for air fares.

I’m flying first fucking class. For $500.

Normally first class just one way from Chicago to New Orleans is around a grand. I’m going round trip. For five hundred fucking Ben Franklin’s.

So. That’s the plan.




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