Back in the Trap, Yo!

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Ciao ragazzi, amicis. Happy Monday. Jennifer Gulbrandsen reporting to you live from Atlanta, Georgia where my body has remembered to perspire out of nearly every pore. My poor skin and hair are so confused and scared right now. I stepped off the plane with a sunburn, two cystic zits, and crispy hair into the inside of a tea kettle where my hair and skin love to exist. The rest of me just hates it. So, ABUNDANCE and all that.

Kill me.

Actually, it’s not that bad and I’m being dramatic as always. You know me, I’m not happy unless I’m complaining about something. I’m in my element here, because my complaining never stops. This time no one is allowed to say anything about it because it’s my birthday week. According to Janet and Susan on Facebook, I’m allowed to have an entire week dedicated to indulging what an entitled nightmare I am. I can literally be the biggest asshole on the planet from now until Friday and it’s fine because, “I AM TURNING FORTY AND WILL SOON BE DEAD.”

Actually? I honestly don’t care about this birthday. I think I was more excited last year? This year I’m like, “No big whoop. I want a short rib.” I think I made it such a big deal last year, because I was overcompensating for a lot, and needed something to look forward to and distract me a bit. Now?

I want a short rib. Seriously. That’s all I want. Preferably a short rib surrounded by my children as they look at me in wide wonderment as their mother withers into a dried up crone before their eyes. I was a little older than them when my parents turned 40, and I was horrified. I was almost 18 when my mom turned 40 and I acted like she had Ebola and I would catch it. I mean, she was an adult in the 70s. Disgusting. Then again, she never took aging in stride, and every major birthday was very Requiem for a Dream inspired.

ANYWAY, my trauma aside remembering ‘Braless at the Olive Garden 2010’… I am taking this big birthday in stride. It’s just another Thursday. I might pout for a minute because I’m almost 100% sure the kids will be withheld from me to ruin my day, but that only works if I put a huge amount of importance on this day. There are other bigger and better things to celebrate in the future, and they will for sure be a part of that.

But the short rib and rose are not negotiable on Thursday. DO YOU HEAR ME TEAM CHICAGO?

I’m sure something nice is planned for me here in Atlanta before I head back, because Louis has always made it a big deal, and my better half has gone all out my last two birthdays. It’s sweet, and I wonder what they will come up with this year. All I ask is that I don’t fall out of a truck and wreck my knee again.

I’m still going to do the 40k, but I think I’m going to cycle it instead of running. I spend so much time on my feet these days, that the day-after pain of 20+ miles doesn’t seem worth it? I still want to do something, so I guess I’ll do that. Get saddle sore on a bike. Hot.

Welp, I have to get back to the coal mine, now. These walls aren’t going to stare at themselves. I am languishing in this desk chair right now. IT HAS BACK SUPPORT AND I WILL NEVER TAKE IT FOR GRANTED AGAIN.

If you want to hear about more fun stuff, there’s a new podcast.

Have a good one!

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Jennifer Gulbrandsen