Being 23

Last week saw the 23rd anniversary of the escape from my mother's amniotic Bastille.  I punished my mother before I eventually popped out....only 36 hours later!  Good things come to those who wait.

Anyway, I spent an entire week basking in the greatness of the 23rd year of my life.  Everyone was being so kool about it but, for a long time I had not really given a shit about coming a day and a year closer to my inevitable demise.  I still don't and I have a very

"Put the presents over there and get the fuck out my face!" 


approach to birthdays.  I do like it when people I hold near and dear remember my birthday and send me a text or call me to wish me well.  After all, their lives would be so much more lacklustre without my musings on everything and I suppose one should at least acknowledge the day the world changed forever all those years ago.

One person who truly out done herself this year was my sister - not only did she get me some awesome presents and spend an absolute fortune on spoiling me - she also surprised me totally by throwing me a birthday dinner which I genuinely thought 1 of my close friends in London would have attended.  The turn out was much greater than I thought.  We went to a restaurant in Bayswater called Sadaf which I recently fell in love with.  It may be due to the fact that it sounds rather similar to my teen idol and life hero Saddam (Hussein) and the food is Persian.  Well, Iranian!  Let's cut the bollocks!  Persia no longer exists!

SIDE NOTE: If you happen to be from Iran, please do not refer to yourself as 'Persian' otherwise I will instantly dislike you and I will make it my life goal to ensure you will be engulfed in nothing but bullshit all the time.  Literally and figuratively.  Persia is no longer a country or an empire and you do not share borders with Syria, Mesopotamia and Thrace!  Pricks.

So, Iranian food which I thoroughly enjoyed.  I, of course, arrived beyond fashionably late and everyone had the misfortune of awaiting my arrival as it was I who was the guest of honour.  Yes!!!  It was requested of me to arrive at the restaurant at around 6.30pm (no later than 7pm).  I arrived back home from university just after the 18th hour of the day having neither shaved nor showered.  I also had a bit of a wardrobe catastrophe which I eventually rectified soon after my quick shower and I was off into the peak rush hour of the A40 in north London.  Fun times.  I arrived at nearly a quarter to 8.  This is what I like to call bad-ass lateness.  Stronger by Kanye West comes to mind - *YOU SHOULD BE HONOURED BY MY LATENESS!*

This was a very enjoyable night which my sister put together behind the scenes, completely unbeknownst to me and everyone put in huge effort to come out as they all had prior engagements.

This was indeed my second celebration of my birthday.  It was the evening all of my friends were able to come for.  On my actual birthday (last Monday) my sister took me out to a very chic, modern and yet very simple restaurant called meat and wine.  The food matched it's rustic decor and it's menu was very niche.  People who like good meat and good wine will dine here.  End of.

All in all a great week with some great presents too.  My parents sent me down a tablet (yeah, fuck you apple Ipad with your pretence and all your other bullshit!) a Samsung Galaxy tablet to be more precise and it is a nifty looking piece of kit.  Unfortunately I am unable to play with it at the moment because of the stupid retards at the delivery agency.  They opened up a sealed box containing my gift and, due to high terrorist activity these days, the lovely people at the company who send out various different electronics tell their customers to report anything such as this.  Ironic - at the airport they check all through my bag and tell me that it's 'random'.

I am missing out on playing with this thing!


I was only joking about the Saddam comment.  What a shithead he was.

Much love,

Jackson L.