I can already buy cigarettes. I can already buy booze. I can already vote. The only thing I really have to look forward to, as far as birthdays are concerned, is 25. Because then my insurance rates go down again. But that's a crock of shit. Who looks forward to their insurance rates going down?
In honor of my birthday, here is a slight recap or remarkable events since my last birthday:
I worked.
I went to school.
I made a New Year's resolution to "do more cool stuff". It worked out for a while, but then faded from memory. That's kind of sad.
I went to Hawaii. I went home for Christmas.
I went and saw Eric Clapton, Counting Crows, Depeche Mode, Poe, Live.
I stood at the bow of an enormous ship and screamed, "I'm the king of the world!"
I wrote some poems and short stories, but not as many as in the past.
I read some books and watched a lot of movies.
The days keep speeding past and it gets harder and harder to keep track of them. This summer zoomed by so quickly that I could barely keep track of it. I just knew that time was still moving... Always moving.
Today Shelby and I are going to go get our hair done. I don't know what I'll do with mine. I've never been good at hair. It seems like an important girl skill to have, but I just ain't got it, baby. But we're going anyway.
Then we're going to go to car dealerships, claim we just inherited an insane amount of money and test drive expensive cars we could never afford. That should be fun. I've driven a BMW, but never a Porsche. I wonder if you have to sign paperwork to drive a Porsche, or if it's the standard photo-copy-of-your-driver's-license business? Another recap, this time of cars I've driven:
Then it'll be dinner at Mongolian BBQ and I'll drink too many tasty mixed drinks and life will be good.
I don't have to go to work tomorrow.
And that makes me very happy.
I wonder what I'll write next year?