Cheers.

Age is a funny thing. People still think I'm in high school and that my younger sister is actually the older one. When people ask, my first instinct is to tell them that I'm 21. Truth be told, I'm 25, but does it count if I don't really feel 25? I'd like to think it doesn't, and I think my grandma would agree (she's been celebrating her 49th birthday for the last 15 years.)

I don't really know what any of that has to do with anything, but Triple K celebrated his 21st birthday Wednesday night/Thursday morning. It was your typical shit show, complete with crazy shots, a little bit of drama, and the required puking session. I gotta give it to the kid, though, because I have never seen anyone chug an AMF in three seconds flat. Even the bartender at The Cactus was impressed, which has to be hard to do.

21st birthdays are awesome. All birthdays are awesome, just for the fact that you get presents and free drinks and even free hot dogs, but the 21st is special. Its the one night you can pretty much get away with anything, give or take murder and robbing a convenience store.

I celebrated my 21st with my family in Idaho Falls. Needless to say, it wasn't so crazy. But I think I've made up for it by helping all my other friends celebrate theirs and celebrate it right. Here's a few of my favorite memories:

-Dancing with Erin at The Balcony, and watching her watch the man with the assless chaps.
-Not actually going out with The Roommate on her 21st (not exactly a good memory, but still kind of funny!).
-Singing karaoke with the cheer king and trying to prevent his death as he supermanned down the escalator head first.
-BKamps laying on the ground outside of Hannah's because her feet hurt and she just wanted to take a nap.
-Taking shots of whiskey with my sister and her boss.
-The kid in Denver who had to be surrounded by 8 of his friends so he wouldn't run back and forth in the train. Naked.

Like I said, you can get away with anything on your 21st. Maybe I should try and celebrate mine all over again. I'm sure I could get away with it.

A letter...

Dear left knee,

Really? You were so good for so long. We're talking at least 8 years! And then one wrong move and Mr. Knee Joint decides to take a little roll out of its home. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH YOUR HOME? I get the whole "exploring the real world" thing, but I have taken you to some pretty awesome places. And it's not like we're going to be done anytime soon.

And the real world isn't the nicest place. It's tough.

But no. Out you rolled and down I went. At least when my right knee joint rolled out, it didn't make me want to pass out. What the hell? And right in the middle of work, too. Not that I really minded that. It gave me an excuse to sit in my office some more.

So like I told you, the real world isn't all it's cracked up to be. You must have found out quickly, as you rolled back into your home real quick. Doesn't matter, though, because my knee still hurts. Like, a lot. And I look like a big dumbass, limping around everywhere. Add the fact that I get to wear my sweet knee brace for the next little while, and my dorkiness is complete.

Don't think you're getting out of this with just this letter. Oh no. Now we get to visit a physical therapist. Who will make you work. Hard. And if it doesn't get better, we get to have surgery again. Something I tried reeeeaaaallllyyyy hard to avoid. The first time was enough. It only took a good 6 months for me to walk normally again. Running? Don't even think about it. A second knee surgery and I will have to get a scooter to scooter me around. Which might be kind of awesome. But not awesome enough to forgive you.

Seriously. Thanks a lot-

The rest of your body

Friends Forever**...

This just seriously made my night. Maybe even my year. I will be watching when the reunion actually happens. I might even have a Saved By The Bell-themed party. You know you all want to come.


ZACK MORRIS ON JIMMY FALLON*

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*Please excuse my rudimentary clip-posting techniques. My computer from the year 2000 just isn't quite cutting in these days.

**Anyone remember the name of the gang's sweet band that sang "Friends Forever?" I do. I just want to see if anyone else is as cool as I am.

I don't wanna grow up...

I don't think I want to grow up. Ever.

Sunday, The Artist had a 'Dynomite' birthday party for DAD, complete with a prehistoric cake with a volcano. Of course I didn't bring my camera, so you will just have to imagine it. As is the norm these days, I was the only adult present that didn't have at least one child or child-t0-be at the party. And here's what I realized:

I will always be more comfortable at the kids' table.

I know some people HATE the kids' table, suffer from nightmares about the kids' table, and can't wait until they are finally allowed to escape the kids' table. I am not one of those people. And the reason is a simple one.

Kids, for the most part, are entirely free of judgement*.

For example: Let's talk about the two year olds I hung out with on Sunday. By the end of the party, there were at least two tantrums, three sets of hands and faces smeared with green frosting, and two extremely questionable smells eminating from their vicinity. Did it bother any of them at all? No. They were just as happy to share their Capri Sun or their crayon with whoever wanted it.

Grown ups? Not the case. Judgement comes into play in virtually every situation we're in. The smelly person on the subway/bus/trolley? No one wants to really sit by him. The woman with spaghetti sauce on her shirt? Soon to be the next nomination on What Not to Wear. But really? How do either of those things tell us anything about the actual person?

In elementary school, we're taught to not judge a book by it's cover. And then we hit junior high and high school. And the judgement begins. If you don't wear the right brand of jeans, or go to the right church, or drink and do drugs on the weekend, you're not cool, not good enough.

And then we go to college. And we experience the real world, one that's made up of people polarly opposite of ourselves. We experience new things and change the way we think and question everything we've been taught. And judgement kind of takes a back seat.

But once we graduate, once we enter the real world, it comes back full force. We judge others on everything. The job they have, the school they went to, where they live, their past relationships, where they shop and the shoes they wear. And it just kind of sucks.

And so, I'm going to sit at the kids' table forever. That way I can spill anything and everything on myself whenever I want. I can drink vodka instead of beer. And I can eat cake and play with dinosaurs everyday if I choose.

Anyone else want to join me?

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*Don't think that the adults at the party were judgemental. The opposite is true, in fact. The whole party was really one big kid's table. And yes, I did manage to spill cake and green frosting all over myself. What else is new?

Let's go have a beeeeh...

It's been a while since I've posted any pictures on this ole' blog here. Mostly because my camera has been hiding from me. I found it in time for the Taylor Swift concert, but then PIC put the wrong batteries in. Have no fear, though, because I got my shit together in time for the trip to Boston. And so, for your viewing pleasure. I present the following:

There are a shit-ton of pictures and I am too lazy to write captions for them all. So here's a few things you might need to know. It will be a fun game for you to guess which facts relate to which pictures! And......Go! (P.S. Blogger is lame and so the pictures are all posted backwards.)

*The sister worked at an organic farm while in college, which had absolutely nothing to do with her degrees, but fit her to a T!
*The white chicken and I had a staring contest. The chicken won.
*The farm just recently received a grant for the first-ever Humaneur Compost Toilet. I did not take a picture of the future site, but I thought you all should know.
*We went on a duck tour. And had a guide named Garribaldi. He was bald.
*Hillary Clinton did not speak at the commencement. But she was there in spirit. And in cardboard form.
*The Wellesley campus is gorgeous. Boise has no rightful claim to being the City of Trees. However, it is home to the Circle of Trust, so it can still claim the initials C.O.T.
*Harry Potter would approve. The grandpa is standing by Platform 9 and 3/4. Guess where the hidden stairs are!
*Wellesley girls like to wear hats. So do we.
*One of the pictures features a scene from The Departed. Unfortunately, Matt, Leo or Matt was not anywere near.

Other helpful tidbits, not related to the pics:
*The Minnesota airport is a pain in my ass. Always wear running shoes when flying through.
*Just because nothing has ever been stolen from your checked luggage in the 18 years since you first started traveling does not mean that it won't happen on your final flight home from college.
*Bostonians really love to run. And drink. And then run to burn the calories from drinking.

It's Hammer Time!

Attended the highly-anticipated recital of miss Princess Ballerina today, and let me tell you, never have I seen so many adorable ballerinas with so much attitude. I think there were 8 or 9 different pre-schools there, and each performance offered a little something different. There was the crier, and the little girl who did not move for the entire performance. There was the girl who knew every single move, and the girl who was always one step behind everyone else because she had to watch them first. And there were even some boys*, too! Two who were just a tad pre-occupied with their props and forgot to dance and one who did the best imitation of a fish I might have ever seen. All in all, it was highly entertaining.

And it definitely brought back some memories. I took dance lessons for a good 8-10 years of my life. I started out with tap, jazz and ballet, but soon dropped ballet because it was boooring and the outfits were ugly. I think my mother managed to find the only non-mormon dance teache in IF; looking back, we definitely had some scandalous outfits. My favorites were the yellow and black, spandex, cavewoman-esque** ones and the red and gold half top with the tutu/bike short combo. We were pretty hot stuff. Just ask BFF and The Pro, who were happily forced to watch some ancient dance videos my grandma dragged out on Halloween. (Thanks Gma Wava. I owe you!)

I was never the best dancer out there, but I definitely wasn't the worst. I'd like to say that this still holds true today, but the last time I went dancing, it consisted merely of a few step-touches and some booty-shaking. Dancing just isn't what it used to be.

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*I asked The Pro why his mother didn't ever put him in dance class, and he responded with this gem.
"Because she loved me!"
So where'd all your mad, Wade-Robson-esque skills come from then?

**The dance we did while wearing these outfits was appropriately titled 'Walk the Dinosaur' and it remains my dad's favorite dance to this day. And with moves like The Popper and the Roger Rabbit, who can blame him? 'Boom boom, shakalakalaka boom!' (Seriously, go look it up on ITunes. It's amazing.)

Some people's kids...

Just a quick little rant (I will actually try and be quick this time. Just for you M2J2!)

The weekend was mostly spent hanging out with The Circle. We went on a crazy dirt-road adventure, saw a fox, and had a no-hands, loser-buys-ice-cream balancing contest. And then I almost died when I foolishly agreed to race The Range Boy up a mountain (not just any mountain. The steepest mountain in all the world). I lost, even with my 300 yard head start. It was a sad day.

In between all of that and the sweet barbecue we had in the park yesterday, we stopped at my apartment to visit my hammock and get Transformers for the BFF to FINALLY watch*. The boy roommate** and the girlfriend were there, but not for long. As they were leaving, I asked them where they were going. The girlfriend said something about a movie, and the conversation ended when she said something along the lines of "...just somewhere childless."

Now, she could have been referring to something completely different, some completely separate situation of her day, but I took this comment as a direct attack on me and my friends. Because, of course Princess Ballerina was with us. It's not The Circle without her. And I get that some people don't like kids and never want to have them. But here's the thing: we'd been there for maybe 5 minutes. Princess Ballerina is probably the best behaved child ever and we were all outside on the deck, far from the boy roommate's room. And is it really allowed for someone who is basically still a child herself to make a comment like that? Yeah, I didn't think so.

So then I started thinking about all the people I know who say they don't want kids. And the same holds true for the majority of them. They're all kids themselves, barely over 18, just barely starting their own individual lives. It's easy to think that you don't want a child when there's one running around, screaming, and putting their sticky hands everywhere. No one wants that. But that one child isn't representative of the millions of other children in the world, and it certainly isn't representative of a future child.

Basically, it all boils down to this: "Judge not, lest ye be judged." If the girlfriend had stuck around, she might have gotten the chance to hang out with the funniest 3 year old I know, the one who says 'Holla!' and shakes her booty with the best of them. And she would have been very lucky...

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*We attempted to watch Transformers last night. As usual, BFF fell asleep. During TRANSFORMERS! Only she can get away with this and not make me want to hit her.

**If the boy roommate happens to read this, know that I'm not mad. I just thought it was weird. And then I wrote about it.