Well in about 5 minutes I'll be twenty-two years old. In honor of myself making it through another year of life with only a swollen prostate, no known STI's, I've scrounged up a couple images from my private archive of excellence to keep your eyes drawn toward this post.Getting older [not old, just older] isn't the hard part. Gaining years is like gaining weight for me. The days kind of zip past me so quick that I rarely know what the date is, let alone what the day of the week is. Time just sort of drifts by uncaringly. Nah, getting older is easy. Getting up in at 4:00AM, putting on your Target vest and name tag, wriggling into your stiff, cold khaki pants, looking in the mirror at your unshaven face, checking your voicemails from your friends who are having college grad parties, and getting in your car realizing that the jump from 18 to 22 only took four short years and you're no better off now than you were then as you zip up your discount store jacket -- that's the hard part.
The good part? As you jab away at plastic knobs on a desk to put words in your benign blog that no one reads, you get a midnight call from a pal who decides to rap "happy birthday" freestyle to you just as you think the walls of time are closing in.
Thanks Sven.
