GROWING OLD GRACEFULLY
WOW: nice. In honour of the fact that our gorgeous Dean Winchester turns thirty five this week, he's celebrating his birthday. Unfortunately, it's in a place called Self-Pitysville.
Disclaimer: Don't own them; surely that's old news now.
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Another year, another birthday.
And for some stupid reason Sam insisted we came out to celebrate this year.
*sigh*
Every year I'm sure there's an extra wrinkle. My crows' feet are gradually turning into flamingo feet; if they're laughter lines, then my life must have been one long joke.
Every year it's less 'pinch an inch' and more 'grab a slab'.
When I go grey, I wonder if I'll look nicely distinguished or just like a freakin' old wreck?
*Sigh*
Now, where the hell have I written down those thirty-seven phone numbers I picked up tonight?
See, even the memory's going …
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