Happy Birthday, Saggyskirts!

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Some people go drinking on their 22nd birthdays. Some go to Europe with friends. Some play World of Warcraft until 3am. I, however, decided to branch out a bit.

On Tuesday, my 22nd birthday, I turned eighty-two years old.

22 Is the Happiest Number

I know. The math doesn't quite seem to add up, but it's true. Somehow, I managed to skip through sixty years of life without suffering the effects of gravity on my boobs or gathering any wisdom along the way.

You see, I woke up on Tuesday, September 4th, 2007, and couldn't walk. I picked up a sexy hobble instead. This may be the result of going downtown Chicago for the annual Jazz Fest and getting shoved off of a sidewalk by drunk people and losing my balance and tearing an imaginary muscle in my foot... Or it may be the result of old age.

On Wednesday, I walked into my mother's office with the purpose of asking her a question. I forgot the question the second my mouth began to open. I stood there dumbly, took a candy bar from the basket on her bookshelf, and hobbled away. This could be because I'm absent-minded, or it could be a sign of old age.

Just yesterday, it took me five hours to notice that I had only painted one fingernail before going to bed. I can't even think of any other reason for this except that I'm getting old and senile.

I had to ask the tech guy at church this morning to adjust the new in-ear headsets the band was using because I couldn't hear very well in my right ear. This might be because I've spent the past eight years of my life playing piano on stage with a monitor blaring into my right ear, or it might be my old age kicking in.

If you stop by my house, though, and I yell at you to get off my lawn or offer to bake you cookies or attempt to knit you a sweater in primary colors, don't be surprised. Just get off my lawn, eat a cookie, and wear a sweater for your dear old granny, mmkay?

Thursday's Child

Thursday's Child

Here's a deal: I'll stay off your lawn if you bake the cookies and skip the sweater part. Mkay? Mkay.

Seriously though, despite the drunken brawls of which you were an innocent bystander who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, I'm still incredibly jealous about that whole Jazz Festival thing. *shakes fist in octogenarian anger*

Jace of Fuse!

Jace of Fuse!

You know the funny thing about the old age thing? It's safe to say that people who get really old have had a lot happen to them and that's why they have the aches and pains.

Oh, sure, over the years they probably forget about that balcony fall, or being run over in their driveway, or having that firecracker explode next to their ear, or having their eye jabbed with a chopstick, but their body remembers.

Oh, it remembers. And it sure does like to remind them with aches, pains, deafness and blindness.

Now, about those cookies....

Rachelskirts

Rachelskirts

Thursday's Child - Don't you be shaking your fist at me, young whippersnapper! I only bake cookies for nice children.

Jace of Fuse! - Aye, but I've only had twenty-two years of wear and tear on my body, so these aches and pains clearly are just a side effect of being old. And yes, I'll be sure to make cookies for people one of these days.

Scrangie

Scrangie

Happy Birthday, you old geezer.

=)

Rachelskirts

Rachelskirts

Thanks! I'll be celebrating soon by scouring your blog for new products to buy as a treat to myself. :)

seven

seven

Ha ha... I love this. I AM this.
Why did I not discover you earlier? Now I will waste all the time I'm supposed to be spending working reading through your archives.
I love it.