Today I am officially on the down-side of my mid-twenties. I am hitting the 25 mark and heading on into another year older. Which is fine with me. While not wanting to wish my life away, it would be cool if the people at my day job stopped mistaking me for a high school intern.
Though looking like a 16-year-old has it’s perks!
Funny story: The other day a door-to-door salesman rang my doorbell. When I answered it, he asked me if my parents were home.
“No….” I responded incredulously.
“Okay,” He responded, “Have a nice day!” Then he left.
What if I wanted to buy whatever he was selling? ;-) Meh, easier than hanging a No Soliciting sign I suppose.
Back on track: Today I turn 25. Finally old enough to be taken seriously (hah!) and rent a car.
How am I celebrating this most memorable of occasion, you ask?
Dramatically speaking, I’m getting my throat ripped out.
In other words, I’m going under to have my tonsils removed. On my birthday.
(I changed my mind, growing up sucks. Can’t I just be 12 again?)
So here’s to celebrating 25 years by popping pain meds, being physically incapable of singing the birthday song, and living off of popsicles for the next couple of weeks hereafter.
Anybody else have any not-so-awesome birthday tales they wanna share? Post ’em in the comment below!