Today is Lisa‘s 40th birthday (I’m allowed to divulge that information because she has already done so).
So today’s cocktails will be in honour of that. However, there’s a twist. Along with your toast, you must give her a handy piece of advice upon turning 40. However, there’s ANOTHER TWIST. Fucking twists everywhere today. The twist on the twist is that the advice must be from the perspective of a 16 year old, for whom turning 40 is something that happens to other people.
If you’re actually 16 or under, then you’re going to find this incredibly easy, and possibly a bit patronising. Sorry about that.
Happy birthday Lisa. Don’t get married, ever.
[Somehow Pete had turned off comments – they’re back on now]
1. Kamikaze (Vodka, Cointreau, Lime, topped up with Smirnoff Ice)
2. Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as people make out
3. Wow, how did you get to be so oooollllldddddd?
Oh, was I supposed to order a drink? I’m not used to sitting on this side of the bar. I would like one of your delicious mojitos please, and a wink.
And a what?
Shucks. Champagne for me then.
A wink, Lyle.
Mine’s a pint.
At 16, I don’t think I would have dared presume to give a 40-year-old advice. I mean 40-year-olds have seen and done it all already, have they not? You’ve either achieved the dreams you nurtured as a teenager, or dismissed them as folly, right? If you’re living a life of drudgery, it’s because you chose it. You just are, and always were a dull person. I know this, because as a 16-year-old I know that I will always be true to myself, and will never sell out. If you felt the same, you couldn’t possibly have chosen the life you have, assuming, that is, you’re the sort of 40-year-old who thinks they need my advice.
However, I bet you haven’t heard this amazing Killdozer album Snakeboy
Happy birthday Lisa – hope you enjoy the party
I’m off to a party on the SS Great Britain tomorrow so can i please have a Navy Grog to get me in the right frame of mind http://www.lambsnavyrum.com/the-serves/navy-grog/
I’ve always tried to stay clear of giving advice – it generally just gets you in trouble. I’m pretty sure at 16 I thought all adults had everything completely sorted. The reality has been a terrible shock. I suspect I’d have suggested something along the lines ‘be grateful that you’re not 16 because my life is so incredibly difficult in every way and your’s is therefore very easy in comparison’.
Oh wow, like, you’re 40?? Like, how old?? Like, I can’t believe I’ll ever be that old!
But advice? Like, be true to yourself! And, like, totally do what you want to do! And be happy! Yay!
And I’ll have a, like, Jagerbomb!
(I really have no idea what 16 year olds sound like, think or drink. I’m 42. But I do know that my nieces and nephews say “like” roughly 43 times per sentence. Anyway, have a happy birthday. Like.)
Brilliant, all of you.
I’ll have a “old fashioned”. Hold the old.
That’s my advice too.
I’ll have a “old fashioned”. Hold the old.
That’s my advice too.
Advice.
I never paid it much attention, except the bit about sunscreen, and that has helped enormously.So there’s that.
And keep moving.
Champagne please.
I think my advice as a 16 year old would be “have another drink”
So, let’s have a second bottle of fizz!
It’s been a bear of a week. With apologies to Withnail, I would very much like your finest wines available to humanity, and I would like them here, and I would like them now.
My teenage self was a more idealistic and gullible creature than I now find myself to be. Pragmatism and a jovial brand cynicism are traits I inherited from my father and I am glad for them. However, swoony and ambitious 16-year-old Krissa would tell you that you should absolutely love what you’re doing for work, and work very hard at love.
And even though 33-year-old Krissa may be failing her slightly on the first one (by not being the youngest editor-in-chief at the New York Times) I think we’re doing her proud on the second one.
Hot ginger and lemon tea please.
My 16 year old self was pretty idealistic and romantic. She’d probably tell you keep working hard and following your dreams.
Hot Ginger turned out not to be what I thought it would be in the last comment.