It looked just like this...

It's my last official day as a 34 year old. I never feel my actual age. For the longest time I felt 24, but now I'm inching closer to 26. I can't seem to get out of my twenties which is funny, considering everyone's twenties suck. Maybe I'm just my idealized version of 26. Let's see, when I was 26...

- Apartment: a 1920's stucco two-storey with hardwood floors, french doors, and an awesome stove.

- Car: a turquoise Honda with a hot pink stripe

- Job: catering movie premieres and demo-ing cheese

- Acting work: zilch

- Boyfriend: Simon, a South African trust funder/musician with a shaved head who was training to be a shaman; Gary, a borderline obsessive/compulsive writer who battled depression and drove a truck; Joe, a half Hispanic/half Polish hip-hop dancer who went to Princeton. (I may also have been wooing Matt... Wow, I got around. Mom, don't read this.)

- Plans for the future: to be on a sitcom by 30

At 34...

- Apartment: a 750 sq. ft. one bedroom in a forty-six-storey (is it "storey" or "story"?) highrise near Times Square. Terrible cabinets, great views.

- Car: the subway

- Job: babysitter/writer/occasional actor

- Acting work: Well if that Guinness commercial ever airs...

- Boyfriend: Married and couldn't be happier (I know, I know, vomitorious)

- Plans for the future: To eat as much cheese as my stomach will allow and maybe write a book or three. (Although I still haven't let go of that sitcom fantasy)

Which leads me to Knowledge Nugget #6:

Things get better in your thirties. (But I do miss that stove)