I’m twenty-one-teen.
Yeah, um, that’s 31.
21
Thirty…mumble, mumble, mumble.
OK, OK! 36! I’ll be 36 on Saturday! Happy now? 
The 10th 38 year old. Do I win a prize?
51 and feeling it.
…for one more month…
LOL. I have you beat by another month and a half.
I’m 60 and still feel the same way.
Of course, being retired I don’t have to act like an adult. A while back at the doctor’s office he asked me if I did illegal drugs. “Not for year,” I told him, “But I’m thinking about taking it back up.”
51 until January.
So I’m middle-aged. Assuming I plan to live to 102. 
Damn, you’re old. 
40y.11m.7d.
…as my gravestone would say if it were the mid 19th century and I was carried off in the night by the galloping consumption.
59-11/12
22
20
62
1 billion 315 million and a few odd hundred thousand seconds.
Or, 41 years.
Am I too old to add the “and a half” like we did when we were six? At what point is the cutoff anyway?
Dang, fisha beat me to it. Somehow, being the eleventh 38-year-old isn’t as fun.
Still, this thread kinda makes me glad I had a birthday last weekend. 
If you wish to indulge me, or are really super bored, you can see my birthday wish to myself here:
55, and will stay that way for almost another month.
48, and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. 
32