October 10, 2004 - 12:11 a.m.

So I've stumbled into my 25th year with regrets and anger. Fucking gray hairs spouting through my normal religiously dyed red hair...

It's been happening for about a year.

A few months ago, I went shopping in thrift stores with my best friend for a bridesmaid gown for her wedding.

Heather is much shorter than I am, so it is safe to say she has rarely seen the top of my head under fluorescent lighting.

I am trying own a beautiful gown in one of the dressing rooms, and Heather is with me. As I bend over to adjust the train on the dress...

She screams as if a spider is approaching and winking at her, grabs my head forcefully, and declares loud enough for those in menswear to hear, "OH MY GOD! Look at the fucking gray hair you have!".

And then procedes to whip tweezers out of her handy purse and pluck away.

25 years old. Dear god. One of the women I work with sympathized. "25 was a bad year for me too... At 25, I thought I would be married and have babies...blah blah blah."

Thanks. That feels better. It's important to point out she jusy turned 34, and has a gorgeous husband and two adorable daughters.

It's been a busy summer. My best friend got married in August. She is now just shy of 7 months pregnant (classic text book shot gun wedding) and just moved into her first newlywed apartment with the new husband and her 2 & 1/2 year old son. I help the moving process, as she conveniently was too preggers. Someday I'll be able to prove she does it on purpose. Last time she made a big move she was pregnant with her son, and I had to help in her stead.

I do not really speak to Dave anymore. As you may remember, we were barely speaking after I had my surgery in late March.

I have been dating someone. I am very much in love.

Still living in the city apartment with my fabulous gay friend Dan. His boyfriend Matt has been staying with us as he has chosen to take a semester from nursing school off. I can't really complain...he is a big help paying for the bills.

I have a fucking cold that will not die. I have singlehandedly maintained the profit margin for NyQuil. I actually just popped a few pills an hour ago and I have no idea why I am still awake. I should be in bed with my sweetie.

I am obsessed with the Magic Bullet infommercial. How fucking funny is that? I love the chain smoking lady with the cat glasses. Cracks me up everytime.

Isn't the name "magic bullet" something that should be bestowed upon a vibrator and not a mini blender?

On November 19, the new Bridget Jones movies opens in theaters nationwide. I'll be there.

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