Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Suck It, 27

I fucking love my birthday. Some people (I hear) like to have a nice dinner with friends on their birthday, some wine, some good conversation, and emerge feeling a little older and wiser.

Now I, on the other hand, prefer to cannonball into the upcoming year of my life. Everyone knows the best birthdays are the ones you only vaguely remember, you're just left with a lingering feeling that you owe someone an apology but you're not sure who and have a third degree burn on your finger from the fireworks you decided to set off in the street on the way to the bar. Seriously, this shit looks like I've been giving handys to the Human Torch.



Other than that, I am feeling great about twenty-eight! Sure, I may be a stop closer to Saggy Titty Town, but Buster Keaton once said, "You're only as old as the women you touch," which, in the case of Shanon and myself, translates to the boys we dub boners of the day, so seventeen is feeling like a pretty good fit. Here's to many more.

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