I’m not drunk, nor do I feel particularly different.
I was born on Father’s Day; my father had Navy reserve training that weekend and, after I was born, went to the base and told everyone that he had the best father’s day gift ever. Despite everything that has happened since, he maintains that this is in fact still the case.
The evil plan for the evening is as follows: We are taking over a local Indian place, discovering The Tasty, and coming back to my house for an evening of whiskey, bad horror movies, and whatever other sorts of entertainment we may devise.
I can’t believe I hit the last milestone that I’ve ben able to conceptualize. Yikes.
Anyway, I don’t want this to be a long series of people wishing me happy birthday; I don’t think there’s necessarily an art to living or passing the time. Just wanted to write what was in my head, as usual.
Although I wouldn’t say no to a bottle of Laphroaic tossed my way.
Per your wishes I won’t wish you a happy birthday.
I will tell you that I can honestly say that my life since I turned 21 (I’m in my late thirties) has been…I don’t want to say happier, but definitely more satisfying than it had been up until then. Seriously, the best part of your life is just starting.
