Thursday, April 23, 2009

The Date Says It All

I knew I was officially an adult when birthdays, Christmases, and New Years suddenly stopped becoming eventful.

If I live to be forty, I’ll celebrate my birthday with cone hats, balloons, parlor games, pabitin, loot bags---all the things I missed out on when I was a child. But hold the clowns, please.

This day was the first in months that I was able to tell a joke and had someone laugh at it. You can just imagine how constipated I was the whole time.

Just a few hours ago, a thought came to me. I think today should be the day I finally start getting over myself.

On that note, can someone please help me get me out of myself?

Iterax. An antihistamine and an anxiolitic. I took it an hour ago, and I’m betting on it to give me a restful, uninterrupted, seven-hours-straight sleep. The effects are incredible. With Iterax in my system, I bet I can sing the entire BEAM Toothpaste jingle with a straight face. Try me.

I share birthdays with William Shakespeare. Which means nothing, really. Oh, and I forgot: Angel Locsin.

I first heard of this in college. Here’s one of the differences between men and women. When men talk, men discuss topic A, then move on to topic B, then off to topic C, D, E, and so on. Women talk about topic A, then move to topic B, segue into topic C, remember topic A, connect this to topic D, briefly discuss topic E, which gives birth to F, cut short topic F to return to B, and so on. So I guess this gives me an excuse for my entry’s incoherence and logical disorganization. Consider this my little paean to womanity then.

The Iterax is working, people. Yay. *Does cartwheels, still with a straight face*

I’ll sleep now.