Nobody likes you when you're 22

Face it, I'm old. Today is my twenty second birthday. Over the hill. My youth lost forever. My joints hurting, memory fading, and bowels uncontrolable. Here is where I will take advantage of this moment in time and capture all 23 of my birthdays so I can look back at this website when I'm 80, when I have forked over millions of dollars in hosting fees only to keep this site running just for the sake of this one post. Face it, at the rate I'm going, I probably won't update until at least 79! I am lingol. (The correct term for Laughing Out Loud, not LOLing. Fuckmonkeys.)


I was born a miracle baby, no, not a mistake, but a miracle baby. People close to me know the real story about how I almost never existed but due to advances in technology, immaculate conception was finally possible. Now that's not the only miracle about my birth. As soon as I plopped out of my mother, I was rushed immediately to the intensive care unit because I had a gigantic head. My father thought I looked like E.T. as the doctors grabbed me by my head and my neck extended for another two feet until my pale boyish chest finally followed. Turns out my head was so big that doctor's feared I had water on the brain, a pretty big deal. My mother didn't even get to hold me until days later when the doctors came back with the official results. Turns out that my head was so effing big due to "Extra Large Brain Cells", the same ones that Edison, Einstein, and all my fellow geniuses had. I tell this story to everyone and everyone believes it, well, because it's true.


I don't remember shit, as most people don't, but I was most likely sharting.


I sat on my magic green carpet in my room in which I began experimenting with hallucinegenic drugs.


I have no fucking idea how I am going to finish this post. So I am going to start writing about different grade levels because I have a much more vivid memory of time divided up by school years.

As the only child who could cross the monkey bars not only forward but backward as well, I showed up all my classmates and quickly isolated myself by being superior in basically every way deemed possible.


Yes, I was held back for another year, not because I was dumb (duh!) but because my mother and my teacher thought I would be too young to continue on with the current older kids, and felt like I would be showing off my monkey bar skills throughout high school when the other kids were taking calculus, dating, preparing for the future. Just think, if I had gone on, I would have already graduated college and I would be 23 years old.


Here I lived in New York and made friends with a Vietnamese classmate. He knew no English at all, so I jumped at the opportunity to help my buddy out with simple words such as "Asp", "Ship", and "Fuck". It's not my fault his articulation was interepreted into American cusswords. However, the playground security guard thought otherwise and chased me around for the entire half hour of recess. Finally, I was caught and reprimanded by my teacher in the hallway. However, being Mr. Smooth Talking Negotiator that I am, I explained my case and got off without any trouble. In fact, I was named Student of the Year and was invited to the local restaurant in a limo with my principal.


I moved to Virginia, where my home currently resides. What sticks out most in my mind is that Jessica Hersh pushed me in the pond at the local park stepping stones on our field trip. I cried.


I got my first homework OOPS! note to my parents because I didn't do my homework. I cried.


My teacher was extremely diabetic and moody. Her blood sugar would be too low, she cries and spasms, eats a cracker, blood sugar too high, she flips out on the class. She cried, then I cried.


Every year, a nature lady from the local park would bring in the same damn snakes and small animals to show off to us. This year, my classmate Mat took the burlap sack, with the snake inside, and slammed it against the tile floor over and over. The snake died, and the entire class had to write apology letters. I laughed.


All a giant blur because I was drunk off my ass the entire time.



I turned 16 and got the keys to my first car. Well not actually my car, but I flipflopped between my mom's Mercury Sable and my sister's 81 Volvo which was a piece of crap. She charged me 50 bucks a month to rent it while she was away at college. In retrospect, she ripped me off big time, milking 600 bucks out of me. But I can't complain, my underage friends and I smoked cigarettes in it and burnt the seats. BOOYA.!


Actually, that part about TENTH GRADE is more appropriate for this year.


I turned 18 on the day of the Powder Puff game, and the crowning of the Homecoming King. My yearly reign at the top of the Homecoming Court was finally shot down at the possible pinnacle of my years. Congratulations to the winner. I cried again.


My good friend Lex threw me a surprise birthday party in the basement of my dormitory. With a cake and all. And I loved her for it. 5 months later I had "IT'S GOING TO BE A GREAT DAY BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!!" on my away message (a blatant lie). I saw Lex that day and she hugged me, wishing me a happy birthday. I then did that eye poking out motion with my two fingers, and she just wasn't quick enough with the eye gouging antidote, the flat hand in front of the nose. I told her the next day was her birthday, and she believed me because she is blind, and I bought her a seeing eye dog.


I turned 20 with a gigantic 80's party at my apartment. I will post pictures of them sometime, but most likely not. They are in the archives somewhere.


I turned 21 with a bang, as I was Ben Franklin and slept outside on the balcony.


Present day. Writing this terrible update. About to go drink heavily, head over to the career fair where not one single employer there has anything to do with what I want to do, and then possibly catch up on some homework. BIAATHC.

Posted September 27, 2004 at 02:07 PM