Today is Sue's....um err 39th birthday... once again.
She has chosen to abscond to an unknown location rather than be ridiculed and harassed by her peers.
Whatever.
One gets the distinct impression Sue (always young at heart) doesn't particularly like getting physically older. I think the problem lies in her daily work environment. Money hungry real estate cutthroats and peppy, empty headed receptionists. "Yes, honey, I know she isn't here. I want to leave this for her." Confused look. " Nevermind, sugar, you go back to staring at the air."
She needs to come hang out at my place. Nothing makes you feel more young and vigorous than trying desperately to hide your impatience getting stuck behind someone coming out of chemo going 0.00001 mph. "Please step aside, they're serving spaghetti carbonarra at the Red Brick and it's going fast!" That's assuming, of course, that you're so morally depraved that you derive some sick satisfaction from having, by chance, for the moment, avoided the misery that has befallen others. (I will point out, only for those who are strangers to me, that I fall into this category.)
Anyway. If Evegeny's latest birthday has taught anyone anything, you can run but you can't hide. You will, eventually, be birthdayed (check wiki for the full definition.)
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