e-i-g-h-t-e-e-n
"I'm eighteen and I don't know what I want. Eighteen, I just don't know what I want. Eighteen! I gotta get away, I gotta get out of this place, I'll go runnin' in outer space.
Oh yeah!"
I have always been a birthday person. Always. I think it is probably my favorite day of the year, even more than the first day of summer vacation or Christmas or Halloween or No Pants Day. Every year, we have a family dinner and I get this big, red, obnoxious plate that says "You Are Special Today!" in a white, scrawly font around the rim. Every year my mom makes cheesecake too, although this year I thought a change would be in order, so we're having molten chocolate souffles instead.
Today I spent two hours at the DMV in preparation. Not because I am getting my license (I am still a very lame and un-cool senior who takes the Loser Cruiser to school on days that I don't turn my alarm clock off in my sleep), but instead to get ahold of an official State ID. Handy for voting (which I will be doing in a couple days - Santorum is going DOWN), traveling, buying porn and cigars, and all that. And certainly more practical than toting my passport with me everywhere I go.
(On a side-note: is there some kind of law that says that every DMV must look like a sterile and depressing hell-hole? Would it really hurt them to paint their walls turquoise and put some art on the walls and keep a tropical plant or two that wasn't actually half-dead and brownish? Have a magazine rack or newspaper pile?).
When I wake up, I will legally be an adult. I WILL NEVER HAVE MY CHILDHOOD AGAIN. I'm nostalgic for finger painting and playgrounds, drawing mermaids everywhere and eating koala bear cookies (recently re-discovered).
18 18 eighteen dix-huit eighteen eighteen eighteen 18. It's starting to sound right.
"I'm eighteen and I LIKE IT
Yes I like it
Oh I like it
Love it
Like it
Love it
Eighteen!
Eighteen!
Eighteen!
Eighteen and I LIKE IT"
(Although I am a little pissed that I reside in one of the only countries in the world that still won't allow me to have a glass of wine at dinner. )
Oh yeah!"
I have always been a birthday person. Always. I think it is probably my favorite day of the year, even more than the first day of summer vacation or Christmas or Halloween or No Pants Day. Every year, we have a family dinner and I get this big, red, obnoxious plate that says "You Are Special Today!" in a white, scrawly font around the rim. Every year my mom makes cheesecake too, although this year I thought a change would be in order, so we're having molten chocolate souffles instead.
Today I spent two hours at the DMV in preparation. Not because I am getting my license (I am still a very lame and un-cool senior who takes the Loser Cruiser to school on days that I don't turn my alarm clock off in my sleep), but instead to get ahold of an official State ID. Handy for voting (which I will be doing in a couple days - Santorum is going DOWN), traveling, buying porn and cigars, and all that. And certainly more practical than toting my passport with me everywhere I go.
(On a side-note: is there some kind of law that says that every DMV must look like a sterile and depressing hell-hole? Would it really hurt them to paint their walls turquoise and put some art on the walls and keep a tropical plant or two that wasn't actually half-dead and brownish? Have a magazine rack or newspaper pile?).
When I wake up, I will legally be an adult. I WILL NEVER HAVE MY CHILDHOOD AGAIN. I'm nostalgic for finger painting and playgrounds, drawing mermaids everywhere and eating koala bear cookies (recently re-discovered).
18 18 eighteen dix-huit eighteen eighteen eighteen 18. It's starting to sound right.
"I'm eighteen and I LIKE IT
Yes I like it
Oh I like it
Love it
Like it
Love it
Eighteen!
Eighteen!
Eighteen!
Eighteen and I LIKE IT"
(Although I am a little pissed that I reside in one of the only countries in the world that still won't allow me to have a glass of wine at dinner. )