Way too many candles

I’m 23 now, which is strange in the way that birthdays are strange: a day passes, and suddenly the primary number which determines my identity and place in society changes. 23 feels “old” in a way 22 did not. I can’t explain why that should be so, but it is.

The sweetest birthday gift I got was bestowed upon me all unknowingly by my editor: four exclamation points in a single column. I hadn’t managed to sneak even a single one past my editor before then. Credit for the column idea goes to Nathan, who bailed me out two hours before my deadline and saved me from having to write the “birthday column” I had planned. Given the above vague analysis regarding my feelings on being 23, it probably wouldn’t have been a very good column.

Sweet gift number two was from Roark, who took me to see The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy a full three days before it came out in theaters. The movie itself was pretty rad, except that there was 1) a contrived love story introduced between Arthur and Trillian, and 2) a linear, arcing story line where none belonged. The latter involved both a great simplification of the plot (no restaurant at the end of the universe, sadly) and the introduction of several new subplots which seemed half-baked to me. One thing that stood out was the Guide itself, which was executed in a cartoony style that did a very good job conveying Douglas’s ironic humor. Overall, it gets a B.

I was reminded of how much I hate movie audiences. I’ve vowed several times before to stop attending premieres because their audiences are even worse than audiences in general, but I keep breaking that vow because I love seeing things before anyone else does. These people were nearly unbearable, though. They never, ever shut up. They laughed for inappropriate lengths of time at things that weren’t very funny. Every time an event connected to the book, such as the Syrius Cybernetics Corporation’s doors sighing to themselves, occurred onscreen, every mouth-breathing idiot behind me nearly had an aneurysm in the throes of their mirth. “Lookie there, ma, I done read that in a book and now it’s on the tee-vee!” I was excited too, folks, but the reason we ditched Behaviorism back in the fifties is that human beings are capable of internal thoughts not evinced by physical action or speech — some of us, anyway.

To top off the evening, Nathan baked what he thought was a cake but ended up being brownies, and Kelly and Roark joined us to eat it and some ice cream. As birthdays go, it was definitely a successful one.

Also, I got a haircut today. I told the stylist, “young republican. I’m not a republican, but you know what I mean.” I loved the shag, you know I did, but it’s been so hot lately, and I’m tired of being such an obvious target for Greenpeace and LaRouche volunteers. As I watched my wavy locks fall onto the smock, I started to regret my decision, but then I remembered the awesome and annoying thing about hair: it grows back.