An omen of things to come?

Because I am completely and utterly obcessed with myself and am to lazy to accurately acrticulate my superior insights into any of the topics which I have mastered I am going to write a long boring account of my 18th birthday. If you were hoping to read a witty post that brilliantly defended freedom or demonstrated an amazing example of apologetix you have are reading the wrong blog.

Anyhow, I woke up and was greeted by a large portion of my family, comprised of the female portion of my parental unit, my older little sister, my big little sister, my baby sister and both of my fraternal relations, bearing a tray of strawberry crepes for my birthday breakfast in bed and various gifts.

Although you are not interested I feel compelled to inflict a complete account of the birthday gifts given to me by my immediate family. My sisters got me a new back pack, identical to the one which I had stolen from school in January. They are very clever and realized that getting me a back pack for which I had paid my own money in the past was certainly a good choice. The older of my fraternal relations gave me a jumbo roll of duck tape, a jumbo roll of duct tape, a jumbo roll of the handyman’s secret weapon and last but not least a jumbo roll of redneck chrome. I will be sure to use these powerful tools for good, or at least my good. Finally, my parental unit gave me a pack of Swedish fish and a subscription to Shotgun News. I am very happy to get the fish as they are one of my favorite candies but I am even more pleased with the Shotgun News. As most of you know I am a certifiable Gun Nut and an outspoken member of the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy this magazine should give me many pleasant afternoons in the coming year pouring over articles and pictures of a few of my favorite things.

After eating breakfast and opening my gifts I had to go to work. That’s right, I went to work on my eighteenth birthday. I was working at the computer shop. I got to clean off Brian’s work bench and sort all kinds of obscure components. At one, my wonderful female portion of my parental unit, who I love so very much came and picked me up and took me to Chang’s for lunch. After eating 2-3 pounds of Mongolian stir fry, I went back to work and continued my labor till four. Then I went home, packed up my books and headed off to statistics class. That’s right, I spent my eighteenth birthday listening to my teacher tell me that S1 is the substitutable for Sigma1 when the sample size is greater than thirty and explaining why that was important in disproving a null hypothesis.

I got out of class at about 9:30, came home and crashed in front of the TV and watched a movie with the members of my family who were still awake.

The moral of this story, if it is a moral at all, is that once you turn eighteen its all down hill from here, while there are definitely still bright spots your life becomes a constant stream of work until your body decides that its had enough and quits running. At that point you get to “retire” which means you have used up all your value and no one wants to pay you anymore. After retirement you get sit around all day until eventually the certain organs that do important things like pump blood, process nutrients, and cognate decide to follow the rest of your body and give up. Then you die. Happy Birthday.

Edit: Reading over my writing I see that it came out far more morbid and downbeat than I intended. Before you get too concerned I thought I would clarify, I am not depressed.