My Twitter feed. Like most of Twitter, it’s shockingly uninteresting.
Saturday Story-The Aging of Campbell John DeCoite
So, tomorrow I am turning old. Like 21. Now I have to act as a responsible adult, wear pants, not draw dicks on things, stop simulating sex behind strangers on the street. Well, I don’t have to stop. And I won’t. It’s just that society wants me to. Expects me to, act like an adult.
What have you ever done for me, society? Nothing, thats what. You with your fancy clothes and your range rovers and your unwarranted swine flu hysteria. FUCK YOU, Society.
Oh, I’m sorry, that was inappropriate behaviour for someone my age. Wait! No! It will be tomorrow. I think I’ll take my pants off and go and sit on the roof for the night, giving the finger to passing flocks of birds. Or I could go to my 21st party, which will be a wondrous collection of people doing wonderful things. Yeah, I’ll think I’ll do that.
But I am not really all that nervous, concerned or otherwise about turning 21. All I am doing is looking forward to my party. Last year, turning 20 was the killer. I really got nervous before my birthday and I felt as though a lot of things were coming to an end. This time though I am just looking forward to things. I still have party bags to make and some stupid badges, but apart from that I’m all good to have a fun one. So I’ll put on my brand new clothes, look good and party until my feet, voice and liver are sore.
And that’s My Saturday Story.
Wotcha.
PS; Hopefully Next Week I can convince some friends to get really drunk and go and see Twilight 2:New Moon so I can write a review of it, while wasted.
