25 = No Big Deal

The 25th birthday has come and gone...things I have to show for it include but are not limited to:

- persistent gray hairs;
- a few lines on my face I didn't notice before;
- bad dreams when I eat dinner after 8pm;
- a deep and honest love for prunes.

I suppose things are wackier than ever before, though in the most normal sense of the word. I guess I mean that it's funny/unnerving being in that limbo stage of life where the next step is not handed to you on a syllabus. It's not bad, but it's not good.

Anyway, between drinks and dancing Saturday night and High Tea at the Four Seasons on Sunday (haha..."high" tea...4/20....) April 20th was celebrated in style and good times were had by all. I feel as though this birthday was assigned significance by many of my well-wishers as somewhat of a milestone, but I guess it doesn't seem like so much of a big deal to me. Maybe I will try to have that quarter-life crisis you hear so much about.

If nothing else, I came away from this weekend with some sound advice from Dad, which he dispensed after looking at all the embarrassing birthday party photos:

"Some suggestions:

· Never drink alcohol through a straw. You will get drunk much quicker, and if you laugh while doing it, the booze will get up your nose, which is a very unpleasant way to spoil your evening.
· Never mix your drinks. It makes you lose track of how many you’ve had. (It does not necessarily give you a worse hangover the next morning. That’s an old wives tale, obviously made up by an old wife who couldn’t hold more than one drink, and since she couldn’t have a good time, she didn’t want anyone else to either.)
· Never let anyone take your picture after more than two drinks. Your eyes roll up in your head – at least when your hair isn’t hanging in front of them.
· Never save an album with zero photos of your boyfriend at the party. He is sure to look at it later and ask you how come you went without him. (Even if he was the one taking all the pictures. Men are like that.)
· Avoid taking pictures of the food at a restaurant like the Four Seasons. It marks you as a tourist, and someone – like a purse snatcher – might be watching. Of course, there are those who would say a goil visiting Ma’hatt’n from Bwookln’ IS a tourist – or is it terrorist?

Looks like you had a great weekend celebrating attainment of your quarter-century status. Happy Birthday! (The years will now start passing very quickly.)"






What'chu mean my eyes roll up in my head?!