Congratulations to me—my birthday was on Tuesday (October 19th). I’m now 28 years old; counting in days, that means I’m… God, I’m a fuckin’ geezer already.
28 is such a blah number, too. It’s not like turning
– 18 (when it becomes legal for you to… vote)
– 21 (legal to get drunk in a bar without a fake ID)
– 25 (a quarter of a century)
– 30, 40, 50 and all the big round numbers after that.
It’s just 28. What can you say about that? “Hey, I’m 28! That’s 7 x 4! Pretty cool, huh?”
Aside from that, I didn’t have a party (I did have dinner with my parents at T.G.I. Friday’s—the people working there sang and gave me a free birthday sundae) and I don’t feel like crying, so maybe you should just disregard the subject heading altogether.
