Our dirt bikes bring all the boys to the yard. Damn right, they're better than yours.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Je suis plus age maintenant

For some reason you can't type accents in the titles of blogs, but you can in the body. So that's supposed to say âgé, not age. ISN'T THAT INTERESTING?!?

Anyway, I'm 22 today. I remember all those bitter jerks who are older than me telling me last year that 21 was the last exciting birthday I'd ever have, and I hate to admit it, but they're kind of right. I mean, I know it's only 1:30 in the afternoon, and I've only been awake for about an hour and a half, but really: aren't birthdays supposed to be full of champagne and presents and unicorns and things? Not, like, worrying about why the health minister isn't calling me for an interview? Plus, normally I irritate everyone I know in the 20 or so days leading up to my birthday by planning for it and talking about it constantly (only to be horribly disappointed because I got my expectations up too much, of course), but I have to admit, I actually kept forgetting that my birthday was this week, and when I woke up this morning, it wasn't even the first thing I thought about. In fact, my thought process went something like this: "Why isn't Iris Evans phoning me? This article's going to suck if I can't talk to her. Oh yeah, it's my birthday. You know what would make my day? If Iris Evans phoned me."

That's right, I actually lay there in bed, thinking to myself in full sentences like that. It was weird.

Anyway, for those of you who still live in Edmonton, Dave Berry and I will be jointly celebrating our birthdays at the Black Dog this Friday starting at 9pm. You should come. And things. It'll be "rad," as the kids say.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Every birthday I wake up, count the hairs in the sink, look in the mirror and let out a big sob. Not the sob of a man, but those whimpy kid snobs where you cry so hard that you can't even breath right, and make those weird gasping noises "sob...hh-uhh!...sooobbb... hh-uhh!...sooob,,,uh-hhuhh" and so on, at least until your dad yells from downstairs to shut up. Kind of a ritual, I guess.

I'll be 27 soon, and it's been a year since I moved to TO, but it seems to come by faster each year. Maybe I'm better at being boring... reading newspapers and drinking coffee instead of CHASING TRIM. Who knows.

Oh, uh, HAPPY B-DAY!

My best birthdays so far: 9, 15, 23 (actually, I can't remember any of them right now).

~Mr. Mike

1:43 AM


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