At Least I Kind of Feel Like Myself Again

So it took a while to get back on this metaphorical horse. I had what I consider a quarter life crisis. One week ago the big 2-5 hit. Not being able to properly wrap my head around the state my life is in made me think it was not a good to be putting thoughts on the Internet. Pretty sure some things that may have gotten me committed would have come out on here. All that being said, I'm back! I'm old now, but I'm back!

OK, you can tell me all you want how 25 isn't that old but if you're not 25 yet, just wait, then tell me how you feel when you get here. If you're older than 25, you can laugh at me when I'm even older wishing I was still 25. For now, I'm going with 25 is super old. However, I am realizing I'm pretty much still just 12 years old in about a million ways.

My birthday party was at a bar (OLD). My mom was my ride home (NOT OLD). My friends bought me a birthday cake (REALLY NEITHER BUT FOR THE SAKE OF ARGUMENT, OLD). That birthday cake had plastic rings shaped like giant flowers inserted in it that I wore all night (NOT OLD). I started purchasing products with words like 'Anti-Aging' in the title (OLD). I spent my Sunday watching *all* the extras on The Twilight Saga: New Moon DVD because Robert Pattison is like such a dreamboat and Taylor Lautner, well, abs (NOT OLD). (Also I realize Taylor Lautner is about 12 years old but if you're going to keep someone shirtless for that many minutes of a movie there's no way we're not all looking.)

This list could continue but I think you get the idea. The point is maybe 25 isn't that old. But really it is. This didn't really get us anywhere did it?

So I Guess I Am 6.

Mom actually did it. She actually hid the Easter baskets. Guess who took the longest to find hers?

This girl.

Want to know what was in those Easter baskets that took me 10 minutes longer than everyone else in the family to find?

DVD's.

And by DVD's I mean Toy Story 2 and Shrek.

All this makes me feel way better about the big birthday coming up. You really never actually have to grow up. And I apparently have the DVD collection to prove it.

At Least I'm Not A Six Year Old. Well...

As you may or may not know, this Sunday is Easter. In this family Easter celebrations are very small. And honestly, those celebrations have very little to do with, you know, the reason Easter is really celebrated.

Preparations include not eating meat on Good Friday. Only Good Friday. That's how we did it growing up, that's how we do it now. Only when we were growing up, we actually, you know, went to church during the Lenten season. Now we pretty much just don't eat meat that one time and call it...well, we don't really call it anything. We really just kind of pick that day and don't eat meat.

Like everyone else on the planet, we follow up this deprivation with a giant ham on Sunday. Because there's no way to reward yourself for being good that one day like a huge piece of pig.

The point is, we don't really celebrate Easter. But we do have Easter baskets. Even the Easter's I didn't come home while I was in college, I would get a package with plastic eggs full of Jelly Belly's, Snicker's eggs, you get the idea. And if we are home we get a literal basket with the pastel, plastic grass in it and everything.

All 3 kids are going to be home for Easter this year. I asked if Mom could hide the Easter baskets so we could search for them like when we were kids. This was not a joke. How fun would an Easter basket hunt be?! Yes it can be noted, we are 19, 21 (a week shy of 22), and 24 (a month shy of 25). But seriously, are you telling me you wouldn't have fun with a good old fashioned basket hunt?

Two days after I made this suggestion Mom in passing said, "Do you think you guys are too old for Easter baskets?"

My response? "You realize you're asking the child who a few days ago asked if you would hide her basket so she could find it right? You know, like someone under the age of 10?"

Mom: "Right. Nevermind. ... So, what do you want in your Easter basket?"

If I wake up on Sunday and these baskets are hidden: It. Will. Be. Epic.

Now This is A Blood Line To Be Proud Of

The Scene: My Kitchen (Where I haven't even had my first cup of coffee yet.)

The Players: Me and Georgie

Georgie: So, did you get the phone call I did last night? (Never ask someone that question like that. 'The phone call' could have come from anyone about anything. This girl's mind always assumes the next statement is, "Uncle Barry died. He choked on a shrimp at Red Lobster.") (I don't have an Uncle Barry. And if I did and he was eating at Red Lobster, I'd hope he was eating crab. Unless it was Shrimp Fest.)

Me: No, what phone call?

G: From your sister.

Me: Oh boy, what was it?

G (In a voice imitating my sister): MOM! You're going to be soooooooo proud! Jord won Beer Fest!!!!!! (Beer Fest AKA Beer Olympics. Every team dresses up as a different country, (which basically means writing Germany in Sharpie across a tee shirt) and competes in various drinking events.) (And for those of you who don't know, J is the baby of the family.)

Me: Did he really?!

G: Yeah I guess so. And Sarah just kept saying, 'You'd be so proud, you'd be so proud!' And I just kept saying, oh yeah, I'm so proud that all my kids are so great at drinking. And there's nothing like getting that phone call while everyone is hammered so those kids can ask for praise for being, like, soooooo good at flip cup.

Me: Well, it is kind of funny. And we're good at other things too.

G: Yeah...Remember the first time Sarah came to visit you at Penn State and the only phone call I got was, "Mom, you'd be so proud of me! I drank at Tour de State all day with everyone!"? (Tour de State is far more complicated to explain but let's call it a bar crawl but insert 'people's houses and apartments' for 'bar'. Zack Morris was my team name for Tour de State '07.)

Me: Yeah, I remember that...

G: I rest my case. But, yeah, I'm really, really proud! (Is the sarcasm implied here? I hope so.)

End Scene

End scene as at this point I just walked out of the room with nothing left to say. Because, how do you say, "Yeah Mom, we run marathons, we teach kindergartners, we listen to a lot of Dave, and we're keg stand experts. We just want you to be proud of all of our accomplishments."

Turns Out, I'm Not That Crazy

Seriously! It's a miracle!

I read in a magazine today that Taylor Swift Twittered something to the effect of, "I just used a Sharpie as eyeliner in the airplane bathroom."

This officially makes using a Sharpie to color your few, stray, grey hairs really not so weird at all. In fact, it almost makes it downright normal. I mean, I know putting it on your hair can't be like, really, really good for it, but, I figure you can multiply that by like 10 for your face. There is definitely no way that is good for your face. Not to mention how much face washing it would take to get that off. I feel as though one would need a chemical peel to completely remove it. This does, however, lead me to believe there is something to be said for getting your eyeliner just tattooed on your face. Which someone once in fact thought I had done as I have mad skills at putting eyeliner on. (Seriously. I said it. I don't have a ton going for me so, little victories.)

In other news: I pretty sure this also makes Sharpie markers the most versatile beauty product I've heard of since I learned you could use conditioner as a fabulous replacement for shaving cream.

Where Adults GoTo Play

I kid you not; that is the tag line for Lasertron in Buffalo. (If you think I'm trying to be funny, the website is here.) When I was a kid, the two times I ever went to Lasertron (Girlishness doesn't just happen suddenly, it's something you're born with. Like attached earlobes or the ability to make a hot dog shape with your tongue.) you just ran around, shooting each other with toy guns and then you would go outside, eat pizza, play video games, earn tickets, and use those tickets to get an awesome bouncy ball and an Airhead.

My, my how the times have changed.

OK, not really. Actually it's exactly the same. Except now, I'm 2 months shy of being 25. And Lasertron has a bar. A bar with $2 beers. Despite my extraordinary resistance to anything involving running around with a vest and attached lasergun, it's hard to pass up $2 beers. Especially because, come on, it's Lasertron. There's something entirely backwards (and hilarious) about me at the bar sucking down Blue Lights just to cope with the reality of my Friday night while a 13 year old is making a desperate stab at Dance Dance Revolution just to my left.

So yes, a group effort between .Net, The Goat, Da Kriski, Captain Solo, and El Nino got me into this mess. Let it be known I am an excellent defensive player (take that Captain Solo) and that the red team was born to win. Oh the tales of suburban adulthood....