My birthday is next Friday. Which means next weekend is Labor Day and the beginning of fall. Which is, undoubtedly, the best season of the year. It is the season for CHILI and SWEATERS and BOOTS and FOOTBALL (but only college this year, I think, because the team who shall not be named continues to suck literal asshole) and CIDER and OK FINE I WILL EVEN ADMIT THAT I SORT OF LIKE PUMPKIN. Just don’t put it in fucking everything this year, okay food bloggers? Thanks.
But more importantly, this fall is the FALL OF FRIENDSHIP. Kicking off with a birthday dinner for Work BFF next Thursday, this fall already filling up with the best kind of events. I’m going “down a shore” with the girls on a trip in which a multi-year long group text will finally come to life. The Dude and I are going to a Mizzou/UGA game in, as The Dude spells it, “Jawja,” with Alishan and Mike. And then we are flying to London (!!) to see an Arsenal match (!!!) with Selena and Jason (!!!!) and are going to get high tea at a restaurant where there are buttons that say “Press for Champagne.” (!!!!!!!!!!!) And when we aren’t traveling, we will continue putting together our new home in Brooklyn.
And I will do it all in a shapeless sweater and skinny jeans and motorcycle boots and a dark beer that is too heavy to drink during the summer in my hand. And it will be perfect.