My BIRTHDAY is coming. Wheeeeeeeeeee!
It's only, like, my most favorite day of the year. Well, it's a close second to Christmas. Or maybe they're tied... Whatever. Love it.
I shall be joining the Quarter-Century Club on Sunday, Feb. 4, and I'm pumped. Twenty-five years old. It's so... middle-of-the-road. It's not 24, which still feels too close to 21, which is way too close to college, and it's not 26, which is just that much closer to 30, which might as well be 83. (I kid). It's 25. And it's perfection. And I bet it makes Mom feel reeeeally old.
What I will have endured in my 25 years of life: my birth (Go, Mom!), the death of four pets, a grandpa and one fish, college, too many boyfriends, one fiance, my WEDDING, a marathon, that one time I almost died when my car spun into the ditch, and four (give or take two) beer bongs.
It is a quarter-century worth celebrating, people. And I will be doing so. Saturday night. Be there, or, you know, don't.