At Full Price

By popular demand (Deborah) I'm writing a new post. This is how "Ice Cream For Breakfast" universe works. You ask, I'm so grateful you read and want more-I immediately deliver.

Feel free to pester! (I might cry if you email me a request).

Anywho.

This is it:

Friends. Yeah, on this day of my birth, 24 years exactly. I'm thinking about friendship, my friends, and all future friends I kinda know or don't even know yet.

Naturally, nowadays, Facebook is a way to validate you are loved. If no one comments on your status or new uploaded photo or accepts your pending friend request you might as well accept, also, the fact that you're a loser. Viral high school. Fascinating!-No?

But if everything else fails, there's your birthday. And on your birthday, with your birthday reminder, the love is sure to come out. (You hope.)

Now on a serious, not making fun of Facebook note, I feel loved.

It's wild.

I've always told Alex that I do pretty much anything for a friend. No joke. You ask me at three in the morning to come to you and hug you while you cry about where you'll go in life or because you stubbed your toe, I'll be in my car-driving-while you're still sobbing through your "good-bye" and "see you soon."

I'm pretty crazy in love with my family. And the same goes for my friends: new, old, and best.

Today, what really got me thinking and writing this blog in my head while driving home from work, is the old friends, and the memories. I'm not gonna lie-I got pretty choked up when people reminisce and I'm a part of it-in a good way.

Yes, I'm sure over my 24 years I've had some real bitch moments. I am a Scorpio-both in all the good ways and the bad ways. I apologize for the sting. I try everyday to keep it tamed. At this age, I'm a master at it. You REALLY gotta push the button for it to come out.

But for the most part, I'm so amazed to report that the few memories shared today were happy. Simple. Me-just being me.

Wild.

Like any normal woman, I worry about several things I really shouldn't worry about: my face, my arm fat, my hips, my feet (man I need a pedicure), my belly fat (and the hidden abs I lost long ago), my hair, and my boobs. Yes, I worry about their daily statuses but I really don't think anyone else cares: enter friends. Friends care about the rude asshole customers I had to deal with on Monday and they care about how Alex is treating me and if not good, then he's getting a ball-kicking.

Friends care about the fact that you're still around. Living-breathing, and still existing as you. They appreciate all the idiosyncrasies that make you "Betty" or "Tom" or

"Andrea."

If there's anything I've contributed to this known world in my tiny dot of my life, it is my friendships. Even the ones that have been grown out or moved away from or simply grown distant from-the memories are there. And that smile when you think of them really can't fade.

Nostalgia: one helluva feeling. It's beautiful. Keeps you human.

I would really like a real bed with a bouncy, comfy mattress, or those new boots I saw at DSW, or even a trip to Italy. But in time, I might acquire such fabulous birthday gifts.

But for this 24th birthday, I'm happy to receive friends.

No discounts there.