The Number 27?
With only 3 hours left in my 23 hour day marking the 27th year of my birth (suck it Jim Carrey), I thought I’d do a little recap of the festivities of the past week or so.
Like the 25th birthday a couple years ago, the week was supposed to kick off with a trip to see some Jon Stewart, only this time in the form of The Daily Show. Apparently though, having tickets to The Daily Show doesn’t necessarily mean you’re going to go see The Daily Show, as Frank and I found out after braving the below-freezing conditions of the West Side Highway on Tuesday. Oh well, now we have VIP tickets for April. Word.
As for the events of the actual (slightly abbreviated) birthday, here are some highlights…
- Buena-framed goodness from Debra.
- Grapey goodness from Shelly and Kevin.
- Bushy goodness from the Hancocks.
- Getting “Bauer’d” by Hancock on 64th street.
- Winning at golf for a change on my birthday (albeit of the Wii variety).
- Losing at poker on my birthday (although, given more time, I’m confident I could have turned it around).
Anyway, yes, all in all a fairly low key birthday, which I’m actually fine with, given how exhausted I’ve been lately from this goddamn City. Likewise, by virtue of living in the City, there were no trips into the snowy depths of Vermont for mini golf… although it would have been even more hilarious than it has been in years previous, given I’m about twice as far away now and it would be a six hour card ride. Hilarity would have indeed ensued.
To finish the day off, I’m about to go out and watch “The Namesake” starring Kumar (or “Ahmed” if you prefer), with my Indian friend and his white girlfriend. Should be pretty freakishly autobiographical. Only, you know, with slightly more tolerance.
Oh, real quick… I’ve written a little haiku to celebrate the day:
I’m 27.
Fuck.
Okay, so it’s still a work in progress. It’s missing a few syllables, but I’ve got some ideas, I think it’ll come to together nicely in the end. Next year. Promise.
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