and I smell like one, too

Happy birthday to meeeeeeeeeeeee. I am 25 now. I am oh so exceptionally old. I saw Oedipus Complex with my family, which was good but not great (I thought the male leads were fairly weak and the integration of the Freud stuff could have been much better, but the chorus was awesome) and then we went for dessert at some random place in Lincoln Park because we found a parking spot nearby. I ate a chocolate moose tart thing that was completely delicious and now I am a complete fartyfartfart-head. My brother was cranky the whole time because he wanted to be out with his friends and my dad was in his super type-A personality mode and a little tipsy from dinner (which is usually more entertaining because he drinks so infrequently). Gotta love family. They gave me presents, including my amazing new toothbrush that I picked out myself last week, a cute shirt from Benetton, and a completely fabulous Kate Spade bag*.

In flattering-but-awkward news, my improv teacher invited me to go see a play with him on Friday. I'm pretty sure in a date way. He's a great guy and perfect on paper, but I am a terrible horrible shallow human being and find him completely unattractive. Not just an absence of attraction that perhaps could change with a date or two, but an actual vague repulsion. Which is funny and sad, because I tend to be attracted to plenty of more portly and homely menfolk, and frequently fall for teachers. He just looks like an old man to me--a scruffy old man with a beer belly and a tired face. Otherwise, he should be perfect. He's brilliant (graduated Harvard Law when he was like 20) and interesting and funny and knows music and culture and understood my dorky econ references and isn't scared of me. But he might as well be a woman for the quantity of attraction I feel. I suck. I will die alone and it will be my own fucking fault. Do not pity me, dear reader, for I have designed my own fate.

After sleeping for most of the last three days, I am not tired. Maybe I will play Wheel of Fortune on my phone until I fall asleep or it is time to get up and have birthday festivities. And did I mention I am farty?


*Sunny, if you are reading this, the bag makes me think of you. In a good way.