Did I just wish myself a happy birthday? That's weird. Mostly because I never really liked celebrating my own birthday growing up. So much in fact, that the night before my 16th birthday, I caught wind that my Mom was throwing me a surprise birthday foam party (thanks for tipping me off, glow sticks in the laundry room), and I may have had a minor panic attack. I know, what an ingrate. But something about all that attention from friends and family gave me anxiety. I know, ingrate!
Luckily for me and all parties involved, I've grown to love birthdays. I have to admit though, I fear I've taken it too far and have become somewhat of an attention hog. All day yesterday I was all, "It's my birthday eve, woohoo! Let's go have a birthday eve dinner, let's go get birthday eve dilly bars, I'm almost 22, woohoo!" and so on and so forth. Guess I'm just making up for lost time. I got a little ahead of myself and opened up all my presents from Geoff the night before. Dangit! That big present I'm Say Anything-ing with below has rollerblades inside, yesterday was truly a 22nd birthday eve from heaven!
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