24 or something...

This past Saturday I turned 24 years old. I wasn't really caring about turning another year older; I feel great, look relatively good in a tight pair of jeans, and am still playing like I'm 17, but then my friend Rick decided to oh-so-subtly let me know that I am entering my mid-twenties. Ugh! For all that read this and are older and wiser than myself, you're probably thinking that I'm being retarded, but think about it?! I'm in my MID-TWENTIES! When I was younger I thought that once you reached the age of 21 it was over for you, and now I'm 24! Crap. Oh well, right? So besides me freaking out over a stupid number, I actually had an awesome day! Worked out in the morning, went wake-boarding on our 1986 Seville aptly named JAWS (who's definitely been running like a 22 year old boat lately) and then had a BBQ with family and friends where we played a mean game of beach volleyball (have you ever watched a bunch of swimmers play land sports? Oh, you're in for a treat!). It was a fun, fabulous day! Now, I'd better go take out my hearing aids and dentures for my mid-morning nap.