Sorry* about last week’s absence, kiddos! I was stranded in the Hamptons, riding the coattails of those with large houses near the beach that lack any reception or Internet access. We fancy, but exclusive and not terribly organized.

*I’m not that sorry; it was damn beautiful there. The good doctor actually got blisters on his fingers, but from the sunshine and not a banjo.

 

In any case, it’s almost my 28^th birthday, and I feel like this provides me with a golden opportunity to impart some wisdom in the form of a list. Also, women have a penchant for lists (see: Buzzfeed).

 

28 things you should be able to do by the age of 28:

 

28. Make an omelet.

 

27. Do your own laundry.

 

26. File your taxes. Note: many people use an accountant to this end, and that’s okay – I promote the ancient and traditional profession of my peoples. But you should have attempted to do your taxes on your own at least one time, if only so you can appreciate your poor anxious accountant and the reason he sweats through his suits so easily.

 

25. Make a decent cocktail.

 

24. Use the phone for its intended purpose: make a phone call to your friends instead of merely/only texting.

 

23. Own one important piece of attire. For men – you should have one power suit. Ladies – an essential LBD needs to be in that closet. This is for many reasons, from a spontaneous suit night to a stress free wedding attendance. The latter is something that will begin to happen more frequently, thus the less effort you have to put forth, the more you can concentrate on drinking your way though them.

 

22. Plan out and bring to execution an excellent party. Don’t wait until the last minute for suggestions or bring people together without any semblance of a plan. When I was last in this situation, Paul and Eric had to come to my aid and direct the gaggle of women to an acceptable destination, as I had lost my patience with the birthday girl who kept insisting that she didn’t care where we went, but was never satisfied with where we were. Herding cats only merely describes the agony. 22a. Don’t be that bitch.

 

21. Know who your friends are. Also know who you sometimes have to maintain friendships with for propriety or social advantage, and know how to keep them at a comfortable and convenient distance. When necessary, get rid of crappy friends. The time is nigh.

 

20. Sew. Note: I do not know how to sew. I have to rely on the good doctor to fix a button. Shirt, abdomen – it’s all the same! But you should all know how to sew yourselves, you useless twats!

 

19. Know your limit. I refer to your drinking limit. You don’t always have to stay within this limit, but continuously taking shots to the face without any awareness of your limit is not only annoying for your friends who have to make sure you get home safely and don’t Jimi Hendrix in your sleep, it’s just bad form.

18. Plan a trip. Be able to organize yourself and a few friends to go on a vacation. Or be able to travel alone – the perks of this are truly underappreciated.

 

17. Carry on traditions with your pals. G.I. Joe Night. Soup Night. Suit Night. Cinco de Mayo (aka Danny’s Birthday). As Bill Shakespeare said, “Nice customs curtsy to great kings.”

 

16. Tie a tie, especially a bowtie. A clip on does not count. If only so you can then untie it, present an air of James Bond, and most certainly get laid. Excellent.

15. Be handy. Know how to hang a painting, fix a clogged drain, or set up a sweet entertainment system. Again, these skills are not within my capabilities, but being that my boobs would most likely just get in the way, I handily rely on the good doctor for his handy handsy skills.

14. Clean your home. Properly. Floors, fridge, windows, bathroom – the works. If you can’t do this well or can’t be bothered, at least know a good cleaning service. Ain’t nobody comin over to hang in your dirty ass home. Cause, you almost 30.

13. Vote. If you don’t vote, you can’t complain. And if you are a woman and you don’t vote, I will bitch slap you. Because suffrage.

 

12. Read the news. At least the Wall Street Journal snippets section. Have a basic understanding of politics and current events. If I say that my family had to cancel their trip to Israel this month and you have no idea why, I won’t think you’re an idiot – I’ll know.

 

11. Be a good guest. If you get invited to a party, bring something with you. If you have to be sick, make it to the bathroom. If you have to pass out, be at home.

 

10. Pick up a round of drinks every once in a while. Know when it’s your turn.

 

9. Submit to boozy/bottomless brunch.

8. Take care of something. Mainly yourself, but additions can include a houseplant, pet, roommate, and Eric.

 

7. Call your grandparents. If you’re lucky enough to have your grandparents still kickin’ and crackin’ wise, pay a visit or make time for a phone call to soak in their wisdom. You’ll never regret it.

 

6. Be a local somewhere. This is the dream, one I have not necessarily achieved yet in New York, but technically I have until next Tuesday. Hear that, angry hipster barista? COLD BREW ME, BITCH.

 

5. Have a health regimen. Exercise occasionally, only eat pizza once a week, whatever method works for you. You can’t lie about running, anymore – because your hips don’t lie.

 

4. Know essentially what you’re doing with your career. Whether it requires more education, freelancing, working multiple jobs or suffering through something for a short time to a higher end, have an objective. I have a feeling that this sense of direction will be appreciated by your next landmark birthday.

 

3. Enjoy your own company. More importantly – be comfortable being alone on occasion. If you can’t stand to be with yourself, others may feel similarly.

 

2. Keep in touch with long-distance and long-time friends. I am admittedly very bad at this, but it is something I endeavor to do more.

 

1. Know when you’re defeated, i.e. now, when I’ve run out of things to say. Happy almost birthday to me!

I sometimes consider titling my posts “Complaints of a Short Jewish Woman,” but I feel I would be giving myself away. See you on the other side of 28. Until then, this is Kitty, signing out.