Yesterday, due to the continual forward momentum the passage of time follows, I aged another year. Well I don't mean that I aged an entire year over the course of 24 hours; that would require some kind of wormhole in space. Or socery. Either way I know nothing relating to the manipulation of both. What I mean is that yesterday was that annual celebration (though some people would dispute it being a cause for celebration) of my birth.
I turned 22, on the 20/2, and the time of my birth was 2:22pm. That's an awful lot of twos, and I've take it as a sign that I am going to be killed by a set of identical twins. It seems like the most logical conclusion to come to. This leaves me with no choice but to be suspicious of every single set of identical twins I ever meet. So if you are an identical twin, and you run into me and I hurl bricks and obscenities at you I apologise in advance. By that point I'm fairly certain my paranoia will have driven me insane and I won't be able to be held accountable for my actions.
Turning 22 is really a non-event birthday. You went all wacky the year before, got drunk and spent half an hour wrestling with a hammock, so really the next year is just the wind-down. That's why yesterday was almost entirely uneventful. I say "almost" because there was ice cream cake at one point, and who the hell doesn't love ice cream cake? Well, lactose intolerant people I guess, but I ask you, are lactose intolerant people really people at all? Think about it.
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