It's waaay too early in the morning, but I haven't gotten any sleep yet. I figure that can wait a little while. About nine hours from now, the clock will strike 10 after 10, and I'll officially be a year older.
19. Now there's a meaningless age, if there ever was one. A year after turning 18, and finding out that the age of majority is nothing special. Just legal. There's going to be a lot of alchohol moving around in the next few hours. I guess its about the only happiness that can be afforded. I'm looking forward to the company of it too. It's not often that my work-mates and my friends all appear in the same location.
Or at least, I'm hoping they'll all appear at the same location. It's not too late for my nightmare to come true; for me to find myself at the campus bar at midnight - alone- speaking tongues to my only friend, a shot of gin on the table next to me.
It's... birthday... my... birthday... it's... my...
*gulp*
Whyyyyyyy Ginny? Whyyyyyyy did you have to taste so good?
In other news, Jack Thompson appears to have spun his engines to zero. Stay tuned for more info.
Even on my birthday, there's people who like to steal my thunder.
Edit: Three martinis, three shots of tequila, and a beer later, I feel like my guts have been pickled, and somebody's stuffed my head with cotton. I also have a feeling that I made a monumental fool of myself, but I also have a feeling that I wasn't the worst one there.
3 comments:
Happy birthday!
19 might be better than you think. My 19 was. Then again I was walking the streets of Paris that whole year...
You're exactly one year older than my brother. He's happy today. You should be too; only one year left of being a teenager! I thought I'd miss being a teenager but I don't. Now I'm just old.
Celebrate that you're young! I'll make cake. Want a balloon? I'm thinking blue...
And you can't seriously think gin tastes nice?!?
Actually, Gin tastes like rubbing alcohol. Still drink it on occassion though. It helps me get in touch with my British roots.
A blue balloon would be nice. I haven't had balloons for a birthday for a few years now. Last time, they were black balloons. And a cake you say? Mmmm... cake.
One year left of being a teenager, but how more years of being treated like a kid?
I'm moving out after I get back from Olds.
I'm decided.
Happy Birthday! I had no idea you were (as my Scottish dad would say) "a wee baybay!"
You write so much older than your years. :)
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