The big 2-5

A quarter of a century.
Some say, “You’re closer to 30 than you are to 20!”
Some say, “I’m a over half of a century old and it’s not so bad! I’m also your mom! Clean your room!”
This is a pretty cool year, so far.
I can now rent cars.
The next big milestone is, I guess, 65, when I can qualify for the ASPCA or whatever the fuck old people qualify for.
I’m spending my birthday with tons of friends getting plastered at a local bar.
That’s in the alternate universe where I neither have to work from 3-11, where I have a local bar, and I have tons of friends.
I found a tape (and by “found” I mean “look at every day on top of my CD player in anticipation of my birthday”) that I got when I was probably 8 where a spaceman sings a song just for me. It’s one of those personalized deals that you get in toy stores, or cry in toy stores if your name is Girbigaboo or something, and I happened to have a common enough name to have this spaceman sing me a song about trying to find me presents on the moon and Mars.
So that’s why I’m not depressed about getting older.
Things like that still amuse me.

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