Getting High on Pixie Sticks

It's kind of funny. I was sitting in my speech class listening to a guy names Raul speaking about the fact that today is his birthday. After class I casually inquired as to how old he was. He replied that he is 24. I made an offhand remark, something to the effect of "Man, that's old," and then it dawned on me that I am about to turn 24 in a few days. I guess the older you get, the less distinct the signposts are. I mean at 5 you are excited that you finally get to stop meandering aimlessly around the house, getting high on pixie sticks, and go to school. At 13, you are officially a teenager, and a new age of troublemaking begins. You start again with the pixie sticks. At 16 you get your drivers license. 18 you can vote. And then there is the magical age of 21, where drinking alcohol suddenly becomes legal (which I suppose can take some of the fun out of the thing). What is there left after that? I guess my insurance premiums will go down at 25, but that is not terribly exciting. So what is there to look forward to? I guess just one more year of being less than a quarter of a century old. Yeah! Pardon me while I attempt to contain my excitement.

People have been asking me lately what I want for my birthday. I don't have any great answers to give them. I have all that I need: good health, the clothes on my back, a roof over my head, and a good education (pending). The only thing I have been able to come up with is that I need to go to the dentist, as I have no dental insurance (and it is about that time again). However, I was told that that was a lame present. I tend to disagree, but whatever is clever.

So what else can I say? As my birthday approaches, I will be pondering what all of this nonsense means. Probably nothing. Find me this October 18th at 4:20pm, and you shall probably find me a grave woman indeed, because the grave is the only thing I have to look forward to.

Comments

Anonymous said…
For your birthday, I think you should get 24 spankings.
9:19 AM
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