theoretically, i knew that i would be getting older. i mean it happens about this time every year. but this one kind of crept up on me, all sneaky like. it's not like twentyfour was so grand either. i moved away from all of my friends and family, which was hard. well, the friends part anyway. (just kidding mom! tell dad to send money!)
this year was the first year of my life that i was not in school. i had absolutely no idea what to do with myself. i'm one of those people who gets more done when i have more to get done. if there's only one thing on my to do list, you should pretty much forget it. unless it's make out with Boy, or say inappropriate things, because those are things i really try to do on a daily basis anyway. the only reasonable thing to do in this situation was to go work at a school, which of course i did, becoming an upstanding member of the community, and a good example for all.
i can hear you laughing from here.
this was also the year i worked for TheBeast*, who was a fifty-something woman that looked like this:
you are seeing her in her natural environment.
do not feed her... she might bite.
the strangest thing to me might be that when i realize what i thought i would be doing at twentyfive, i also realize that i was way the fuck off. i am not driving around in my convertible car (with leopard print seats), hair perfectly blowing in the breeze. i don't have an airy loft-style apartment and a friendly maternal-figure maid to clean my bathtub and do my laundry. i am not a model/psychiatrist/best-selling author. and most appalling of all, i am not married to uncle jessie.
i drive a mazda. my apartment, well, we've covered that. my towels are pilly and my living room smells like pickles. i don't even have any health insurance.
when my mom was my age, i was already born.
what. the. fuck.
i've heard that people give you crap on your birthday so i should probably ask for money to you know, pay off my soul-crushing debts, or buy pretty things like plants, and um, curtains, in order to make my apartment more appealing. but we all know i'm just gonna spend it on those crack-coated apple rings. (exhibit a: number 17.)
instead i have provided a list of some acceptable birthday gifts here. it's the only way i'll make it.
*i no longer work for The Beast, though i am permanently scarred from being in her presence.