The Gaffer and his buddies have nicknamed me "Thirty".

Because I'm 29 and he's 22. Apparently even his dad calls me Thirty. Which means when I meet his father, I'm calling him Fifty.

I'm not in the least offended, I think it's funny, and I think it's even funnier that I had no idea about it til now. Apparently lil Pat coined the name, and I adore Pat. He's something like 19, and totally skater cute, and sorta dopey. He's absolutely lovely. The Gaffer got scared when he slipped up. He was on the phone to another friend and he said, "I won't be there, I'm staying at Thirty's tonight," and I overheard. Apparently it was born out of pride that he was dating someone older.

I should call him the Kid or something.

I still have not heard from The Captain in NY. Looks like I might be hanging out there by myself, which is absolutely fine. I'll hit a couple of shows, do some shopping, get all up in the museums etc.

I spent the day on X-Men and I didn't get a mutant face, but a building blew up and we got crap rained on us and we were protesting mutant cures. Fun Times. My feet froze solid.

Ok I'm going to have a bath. I'll probably fall asleep in it, I had three hours of sleep last night due to tossing and turning. Not in the good way either... dirty dirty.

And now I have a Christmas Party to go to.

LOVE!