I celebrated a birthday over the weekend, thank you very much. It was pretty lowkey, just enjoyed some good food and cake with some friends and family. I made the big leap from 23 to 24 and God, I gotta tell you, I feel horrible. That’s right, I’m officially “mid-twenties” and I want to vomit. It’s so gross.
“Early 20s” has such a great ring to it. From 20, 21, 22 and even 23, it feels like the world is our oyster. Like we’re young enough to make mistakes and move on from them. We’re still forgivable.
But with “mid-twenties”, everything becomes too real. Job, taxes, bills. Not to mention the arthritis that starts pulsing through my veins at 12:02am on my 24th birthday. I hate being mid- anything, it’s so… demeaning. Whatever you do, do NOT let me get to my “late-twenties.”
For some reason, 23 was so great, but now, a few days into 24 and I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like a boring accountant. And I’ve tried to live my entire life to do everything I can to NOT be a boring accountant. But this “mid-” classification really puts a damper on my youth, and I won’t stand for it. You know what, I’m gonna go out tonight. I’m gonna go out clubbing and get hammered on a Monday, cause guess what? I’m young, I have energy, I’m not “mid-” anything! Actually, on the other hand, there’s a Ken Burns PBS marathon running tonight and my couch looks mighty cozy. I think I might just warm up some milk and stay in.
What’s worse: getting stuck at the top of a roller coaster, or derailing from a roller coaster?
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