Post by karlsie on Feb 2, 2010 14:35:49 GMT -5
I hope this birthday greeting didn't surprise you in the same manner i was surprised when i used my outhouse this morning.
I think birthdays should be designated to the first twelve years of life. It's remarkable how the first two years are recorded in such painstaking detail. We begin first by recording the days; ten days old! Then the weeks; she's six weeks old today! Reluctantly we let go of the weeks and record months, until that terrible two, when we quit writing daily accomplishments in the baby book and begin looking around for the alien who has taken over the child.
The children take up in the crucial month counting where the parents leave off. They are very explicit about their ages; "I'm almost six and a half." "I'll be ten in two months". However, by age twelve, there's no need to keep track of the ages, because we're never the age we want to be. Fourteen year old children bump themselves into sweet sixteen and seventeen year old's masquerade as twenty-two.
After thirty, the slope gets really slippery. Any age drop within ten years of actual birth date is considered honest. Between fifty and seventy, you can broaden it out another ten years or so, depending on both your natural and unnatural resources. After that, it isn't so much you give a fuck about your age; in fact you get rather gleeful that you're in the ballgame while your rivals have all kicked the bucket, but it's a complete health hazard to try and blow out all those candles, and it isn't funny at all if there's even one that keeps on lighting.
So happy twenty-fifth birthday, Grainne. You're a very enriching and rewarding person to have as a friend. I wish you many years of joyous living.
I think birthdays should be designated to the first twelve years of life. It's remarkable how the first two years are recorded in such painstaking detail. We begin first by recording the days; ten days old! Then the weeks; she's six weeks old today! Reluctantly we let go of the weeks and record months, until that terrible two, when we quit writing daily accomplishments in the baby book and begin looking around for the alien who has taken over the child.
The children take up in the crucial month counting where the parents leave off. They are very explicit about their ages; "I'm almost six and a half." "I'll be ten in two months". However, by age twelve, there's no need to keep track of the ages, because we're never the age we want to be. Fourteen year old children bump themselves into sweet sixteen and seventeen year old's masquerade as twenty-two.
After thirty, the slope gets really slippery. Any age drop within ten years of actual birth date is considered honest. Between fifty and seventy, you can broaden it out another ten years or so, depending on both your natural and unnatural resources. After that, it isn't so much you give a fuck about your age; in fact you get rather gleeful that you're in the ballgame while your rivals have all kicked the bucket, but it's a complete health hazard to try and blow out all those candles, and it isn't funny at all if there's even one that keeps on lighting.
So happy twenty-fifth birthday, Grainne. You're a very enriching and rewarding person to have as a friend. I wish you many years of joyous living.
