Quarter Life Crisis

Since my husband couldn't blog to save his life and has the flu, I have no choice but to shamelessly promote my own birthday. The big 2-5, a quarter of a century, I'm half my mother's age, all-downhill-from-here, however you want to say it. It's today, but we've been "celebrating" in bits and pieces throughout the weekend, what with Phlegmy McCougherson being on his death bed and all.

Yes, the bag was that big.

Buddy put forth a respectable effort and attempted to surprise me with dinner with the girls from work. However, he lost steam on Thursday and confessed the whole thing. He'd already made some stealthy phone calls, leaving detailed instructions for my friends at work and just couldn't keep up the charade any longer. So, the surprise ended up being whether or not Buddy felt healthy enough to venture outside come dinnertime on Friday. Surprise! He did...sort of.Since work has consumed my life for the last 6 months, the girls appropriately purchased gifts I can use at work. Yes, I can use the fuzzy, purple hat and tiara at work. Also among bizarre items I can utilize whilst getting paid: the world's largest pencil, a grape scented pony, lime green hair extensions and silly string. Thanks so much, ladies, for the useful, albeit hilarious and ridiculously age-inappropriate gifts.

I may not always love my job, but I always love these ladies. On Saturday I ventured out on a little shopping spree sans husband. Still wrestling with the idea of growing up, I balanced my spending between fun and functional. I got myself some new glasses:These are neither the style, nor the expression I will be wearing, but thought it was funny. I'm also on an exercise kick. It could be the fact that I've been getting into The Biggest Loser and I'm starting to feel guilty about pigging out on ice cream while watching others larger than myself working out until they collapse. It could be that I'm going home for Christmas and I'm still reeling from a comment made upon my return from freshman year: "Wow, Michelle. You've been eating well!" It could be that everyday I'm working with people training for endurance events and am feeling the pressure to complete a marathon myself.
Most likely, it's because I thought these shoes were awesome and possess magical powers that will make me love exercise. We'll see... I did get breakfast in bed and some sweet presents from the Mister. He did his absolute best to make it a special day for me, in spite of having one good eye and a wicked fever. I caught a good one!
Lest you think this post is all about me, let's talk about other, more interesting people who share my birthday:
1. MILEY CYRUS - sharing a birthday with Miley automatically entitles me to 50 cool points. The fact that at 16 she looks older than me negates all 50 aforementioned cool points.
2. LUCAS GRABEEL - for any High School Musical fans out there, you know this means I'm awesome. 3. BORIS KARLOFF - a.k.a. Frankenstien. Please refrain from making any comments alluding to similarities. Thank you.That about does it for all the celebrities I've heard of that share my birthday. On to those who turned 25 the year I was born: Remember when people thought the one white glove was weird?
Aah, the 80s. Hard to believe she's still making headlines.
Does this count as one of my six degrees?
All in all, it's been a good birthday. A little low key, but now that I'm over the hill I should get used to it, right? I think I finally might be starting to enjoy the fact that people think I'm younger than I am - I got 17 the other day.
Thanks to everyone who made my birthday special - the phone calls, the dinner, the presents, and the dragging yourself out of bed and putting on a happy face even though you're running a fever and full of mucus (you know who you are).Maybe this time next year Buddy will blog - if I had blown out candles, that might have been my wish :) But until then: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!