So. Today's my birthday. I'm 26. This means I'm officially closer to 30 than 20. And I'm okay with that.
Sure, 30 seemed really really old when I was a little kid. And when you see actors playing 30 year olds in movies and TV, they all look about 40.
But when I look at all of my friends who are 30 or older, they look 25 and act 22. The future seems manageable.
I already celebrated my birthday on Friday by going out to my favorite neighborhood bar. My sister brought a cake and we had pizza delivered. My friend Ryan commended me for hosting the first pizza party he's been to since he was a kid.
And I didn't get really drunk. And aside from Ken playing Christmas songs on the jukebox, nothing too inappropriate happened. Perhaps I'm growing up after all.
That is to say, it was a big step up from last year's birthday cirque du disaster. It began with sake bombs, moved on to me mashing my hands into an ice cream cake while laughing hysterically, and then to a shouting match between my friend Shannon and two of my lesser guests who refused to pitch in to pay for dinner. Shortly thereafter, I ran into an old friend on the street and congratulated him on his marriage (which had taken place about 10 months earlier...). We were then kicked out of one bar for being too drunk, and then a second bar, again for being too drunk, but more so because we'd bum-rushed the karoake stage, stolen the microphone and sang a not-so-pleasant song about how the bar and all its patrons were horrible people. Then, we made our way back to my apartment to sing Oxygen On-Demand Air Karaoke with a group of random people my sister picked up at the supermarket while out obtaining us some completely unnecessary new bottles of booze.
So thanks to all of my friends who came out this year, remained calm, and gave me cute presents. It was nice not to wake up Saturday morning wondering how I'd gotten home, where I'd put my shoes, and why my kitchen floor was all sticky.
And now, back to work.