Wednesday, July 21, 2004

I'm 34 today. Seriously, what's the point?

There's a time when almost every birthday is a significant one. From 1 to 9, well, the very idea of birthdays is still new and exciting. Then there's 10 (double digits), 13 (teenager), 16 (able to drive), 18 (able to do almost everything else), 19 (let's go to Canada!), 20 (no longer a teenager) and finally, the magical 21.

It drops off pretty sharply after that; there's 25, which is apparently significant in our count-on-the-fingers society, and then all you have to look forward to is 30.

At least 35 has the same count-on-the-fingers cachet. But 34? Feh I defy you to find any significance to that. All I can think of is an issue of Hellblazer from 1987 where John Constantine, in the midst of all his demon fighting, realized that it was his 34th birthday. And I doubt anyone but me remembers that bit.

*sigh* wake me up when I hit 40.

PS Party on saturday. You bastards better be there.

Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen

So, how was the party? Sorry I couldn't be there. Glad I got to see you and Shelly while you were in town...
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