I’m 18. Cool.

I didn’t tell you all it was my birthday, because I didn’t want you all worried about sending me gifts and presents and things like that. Do I feel differently as I did yesterday? Nah. Do I feel like I’m old enough to go and die for my country? Nah, not really. Personally I think the people who vote to go to war should have to actually GO to war, but that’s just me.

We’re havin’ a little shindig at my place tonight, my parents are hosting the gathering, but then they’re gonna bolt with the youngers, see a movie and stay at a motel. How cool are they? Seriously? Since they’re not drinkers, I don’t have to worry about anyone jackin’ the booze, and if anyone tries to bring any I’ll know it…so, they trust me. Now. In regards to burning the place down, I can’t promise that I don’t love playing with fire. I’ll let you know how that goes.

I wish Maggie was able to make it over, but I don’t think that’s in the stars this time around…

Have I done a birthday post before? Did I have a fake birthday when I was all paranoid about someone figuring out who I was with this blog? I was seriously paranoid when I first started writing, so I might have falsified a few things. Then I figured the zits were the dead giveaway, and then adding extra-curricular activities, so I just said screw it, and decided to open the book. Anyway, I don’t think I did, but legitimately, you can mark your calendars. January 28. And I love that it hit on a Friday. Lucky boy.

If I’m completely honest, I really hoped that my zits would be lesser by now, but what can I say? They’re certainly not at their peak, but I’m hardly looking newborn smooth. Don’t suppose I’ll ever enjoy that again…That’s kind of depressing. Then again, I guess your skin takes a serious beating through the years, so I’m just happy to have mine!

I’m out. I’m dreaming of cupcakes, cupcakes and cupcakes…

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