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As I gracefully grow more debauched and depraved
I am twenty-five years old. This time of year in 1981, my mother lost the crown on her tooth to a Tootsie Roll and as a dentist's appointment would have been most convenient, instead the next day I was born. My father says that he took his first look at me, prepared to lie for love of my mother—Love, she's beautiful—and millions of years of selfish genes slammed him in the back of the head and he found that he believed what he said: Love, she's beautiful . . . And I slept in the same crib as three cats, but that was later. It's strange to grow older than characters you once thought were grown up.
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came
And go round and round and round in the circle game
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came
And go round and round and round in the circle game
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It's strange to grow older than characters you once thought were grown up.
Indeed. I remember when I was sixteen, no character was older than 20 or so (except for the evil autority figures).
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This time of year in 1981, my mother lost the crown on her tooth to a Tootsie Roll and as a dentist's appointment would have been most convenient, instead the next day I was born.
Ah. Thus confirming my theory that tooth crowns are actually baby stoppers. Stop with the rogue eugenics experiments, dentists!
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I hope this year the wheel will turn for you.
There will be an occultation of the Pleiades this evening: so your quarter century is nicely bracketed by moon and crown.
Nine
On your birthday
The Hebrew edition of Penthouse magazine is released. Kosher pornography!
(via Rotten News)
I just had to share :)
(Also, happy birthday)
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I just about remember 1981. scary. And yes, weird when you grow older than people you once thought were so much older than you...
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Twenty-five was a weird one. But it's the last weird one until thirty-five, in my experience.
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It does sometimes feel strange to be this age. (I'll be joining you at 25 on Thursday.) I have to keep reminding myself I'm a really-truly woman, not just a big kid.
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---L.
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*hugs*
Happy Birthday. I meant to comment earlier, but there was a horrible accident. I survived.
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Additional cake awaits your return to the Elm City.
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