It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want too, dammit!

So I decided that since I couldn’t actually go out on my birthday I would go out last night and party.  And I did.  Only, I’ve gotten to the point where “partying” actually means “sitting-at-IHOP-drinking-coffee-and-enjoying-completely-horrible-service-because-NO-I-guess-I-wasn’t-hungry-after-all-Mr.-Server-Guy”.  It’s a rather odd occurrence.  Partying used to totally be about how much beer/vodka could I down in 20 minutes before stripping and running around naked until someone finally decided to pay me to put my clothes back on (as I’ve said before, I’ve always been quite the scam artist/drug dealer entrepeneur) or someone starting having sex in the middle of the Twister game.

Have I just gotten old?  Is this what life’s going to be like after 27?  Now that I’ve hit 27, there is no fun, no games, just sitting around like the guys waiting to die in 1984 until I finally learn to love Big Brother?  That’s not the life I want!  I want to be 19 again.

1 Comment

  1. Unfortunately…yes. This is your life when you get old. Though I’m 41 and I’ve never spent a birthday in IHOP. That’s really kind of sad. Maybe we should hang out. I’d at least get you drunk…lol

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