30 does not equal adult

Hello kids,

It's been a long while. Sorry bout it...let's just move on and not make any excuses. I kinda suck at blogging. Deal.

So, part of this journey into the dirty thirties is dscovering if I have really reached the level of maturity and responsible-ness that defines being "30". Today, I came to the realization that although in dog years I may be 210, in this lifetime I can still act like a 16 year old who needs her dad to tell her what to do and bail her out of a sticky situation. Thus the title "30 does not = adult"

Long story short, next week I am leaving to go on a "business trip" to Playboy Spring Break. If you want to see what it's all about you should check out Chris Duncan's blog .
We are going to Mexico. Therefore, I need a passport, which I have BUT it is about to expire in April. I'm gonna go ahead and say about two months ago my lovely friend Kaki poo poo told me to check and see if Mexico will let you cross the border with a passport that has less than 6 months left on it. "Whatever," I thought to myself "I've got stuff to do like watch The Biggest Loser and make fun of people who work for Maxim". That was stupid. Turns out I do need 6 months on my passport and now with 7 days until PSB I am royally scuh-rewed...which of course I only realized because Bob Kolodny (my dad) asked me about it last night and wrote down on a piece of paper that I should do the following:

1. Google "Passport Expeditors"
2. Call the US Passport agency. ASk them what the process is to renew an American passport and then ask for an appointment in NY or CT

Literally, step by step instructions. (see scan)

Well, I took his advice and talk to some ass in the passport office only to find out that I needed a Birth Certificate to get a new passport...who has their own birth certificate on hand????!!! Not me. SO, I panicked and called the dadski who was in CT and could not tell me if my birth certificate was readily available because that would be in New Hampshire. I was trying not to panic, but secretly I was. Why do I leave things until the last minute? I think I like to stress myself out, but that's another story. Anyhoo -- turns out Dad had the proof of my existence and actually raced to New Hampshire to ease my mind (best dad ever!) and I will get my NEWER AND BETTER passport in some crappy office on Wednesday...and hopefully will make it to Cabo to toast Chris' 24th birthday with Charlie and Jimmy and a bunch of Mexicans.

What is the point of this story? Well, it's that I may cook my own dinners and pay my own bills, I can run a college marketing department and have client meetings, but it turns out my dad is still saving my ass at the ripe old age of 30. Sorry Dad, someday I will buy you a steak dinner to make up for it.