[/twenty- two] [twenty- three]
People (mostly non-dancers) joke at me: "Oh, twenty-three, you're so old! Haha!" "Aw, you're only twenty-three? You're still a baby!" Yes, I know, I'm not exactly qualifying for senior discounts yet. But...when you're a dancer, the Here's-Your-AARP-Card Fairy comes to visit you a lot earlier. When I moved here, my roommate and (it seemed) all of the folks I danced with were all 23 and 24. They seemed so much more mature and experienced than me. To me, they were the "real" adults, and I was a kid. Now I'm 23, and... I still feel like a kid. Whoops.
So, what did I get for birthday #23? I'll tell you. Drumroll ("drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"): The flu! No, not fun at all. But, I also got this from my super-awesome best friend:
Sane Man and some books. Thanks, Mr. Soze-berg (by the way, you haven't seen all of Sane Man yet, right? Dude. You have got to borrow this. It'll make up for the 8 million times I've borrowed your DVDs)! I spent my birthday laying in bed watching Sane Man and Beaches. Sane Man is totally epic. I forgot how much I like Beaches, too...mind you, it does not hold a candle to the book, but it's got Bette Midler(!), Laynie Kazan (who is hilarious), B. Hershey before she got all weird-looking, and Mayim Bialik pre-Blossom. What's not to love?
Anyway, that was my birthday. No dancing, just movies and Theraflu. And since I've got 8 hours worth of classes and rehearsals tomorrow, I'm headed back to bed. Later!
Edit: Okay, fine, I'm retracting my earlier statement about G. Marshall ( which is now deleted). M forced me to watch the film again with the commentary (M is a Garry Marshall fan), and after the first few minutes went by I starting laughing my booty off. Mr. Marshall, you're damn hilarious. Sorry for the comment about your Bronx accent.