Saturday, February 04, 2012
Milestones
Today is my birthday. I tend to think this is a fact that loses some of its significance as we age. At 8, a birthday means a sheet cake, lots of Transformers, and riding in the giant skate at Roller Country. At 16, it means pretending that you know how to parallel park and trying to get your cousin to buy you Zima. At 21, it means making out with your TA and throwing up jello shots on the quad. But by 34, it really just means struggling to remember to enter the right age into the elliptical. Not that that isn't exciting. I'm betting they'll give me 5-10 extra calories burned just out of sympathy.
Anyway, because it's my birthday, I'm taking every little thing that doesn't go exactly the way I want it to as a huge personal affront. The fact that an enormous angry woman in a tube top came into my kickboxing class ten minutes late this morning and planted herself about eleven inches in front of me was obviously evidence of a huge cosmic plot against me, and the fact that the television is littered with PGA Golf and Secondhand Lions as opposed to a Top Model marathon is, in fact, the worst thing that has ever happened to anyone. And don't even get me started on the fact that I didn't win the Jewel Wish Big Win Big contest as I was clearly born to do. Actually, you don't need to get me started. I have been started. Fuck Jewel. Fuck it hard with Michael Fassbender's penis.
I have high hopes for the rest of the day, though. There is to be a cookie cake, after all.
Today is my birthday. I tend to think this is a fact that loses some of its significance as we age. At 8, a birthday means a sheet cake, lots of Transformers, and riding in the giant skate at Roller Country. At 16, it means pretending that you know how to parallel park and trying to get your cousin to buy you Zima. At 21, it means making out with your TA and throwing up jello shots on the quad. But by 34, it really just means struggling to remember to enter the right age into the elliptical. Not that that isn't exciting. I'm betting they'll give me 5-10 extra calories burned just out of sympathy.
Anyway, because it's my birthday, I'm taking every little thing that doesn't go exactly the way I want it to as a huge personal affront. The fact that an enormous angry woman in a tube top came into my kickboxing class ten minutes late this morning and planted herself about eleven inches in front of me was obviously evidence of a huge cosmic plot against me, and the fact that the television is littered with PGA Golf and Secondhand Lions as opposed to a Top Model marathon is, in fact, the worst thing that has ever happened to anyone. And don't even get me started on the fact that I didn't win the Jewel Wish Big Win Big contest as I was clearly born to do. Actually, you don't need to get me started. I have been started. Fuck Jewel. Fuck it hard with Michael Fassbender's penis.
I have high hopes for the rest of the day, though. There is to be a cookie cake, after all.
