Tomorrow is my champagne birthday--I'll be turning 29 on April 29th. If I weren't rocking a mild-to-medium-obscene wine buzz right now, I'd probably be much more upset. But right now, I'm in a happy little shiraz cloud, Gossip Girl is on, and I had a panini for dinner with goat cheese on it. Do not EVEN try to bring me down when the killer combo of booze/trans fats/teenybopper TV is at play.

Never mind the fact that it's the last year of my 20s, my final 365 days of being able to check the 25-29 age box on surveys, the end of what will arguably be the most fun decade of my life.

I'm going to make 29 at least borderline apeshit. I want to live every day as balls-out as possible. Not literally, that's gross. But I want to enjoy every single day this year. I want to push myself a little bit more in everything I do. I want to turn 30 in 366 short days and be able to say that this was my best year yet. I don't want a mediocre year.

Studies show that talking about your goals makes you less likely to achieve them. By sharing your goals with others, you feel subconsciously like you've done something towards accomplishing them, and therefore, you're less likely to act on your plans. I have some pretty lofty goals for this year, and I'm going to keep them to myself. Hopefully a year from now I'll be feeling totally satisfied about having a kickass 29th year, with a big ol' completed to-do list and a renewed interest in actually turning 30, instead of crying about it and gorging myself with stolen Bulk Barn chocolate (AKA my 27th birthday).

For now, I'm going to keep checking that 25-29 box on every survey I take with relish and attempting to go to sleep happy at the end of each day. 28 was a great year: I got married, went to Europe, made friends, learned a ton of new stuff at work, and found a new home. This year will be hard to top but I'm determined to do it.