Bottle of Pee
I turned 35 this week. I know. Because I’m me.
The worst present I recieved was a gypsy curse which stopped me from remembering the ‘i before e except after c’ rule. Which will really damage my career as a writer. That and my writing.
The second worst present I recieved (see – I wasn’t even kidding!) was a bottle of pee. It took me ages to figure out who it was from too, as it wasn’t signed. Turns out it was a gift from my 34 year-old self. He was a bastard. I’m much nicer.
And I have a bottle of pee.