The saddest thing about now being 29 is the fact I can no longer quote Jake from Adventure Time with any real conviction when he says “I’m 28!”. It doesn’t have the same softness that adds to the humour when it’s 29. That’s a harsh age. Harder. Sharper. Not as welcoming.
Plus I can’t listen to Pretty Boy Thorsen’s 28 Yrs with any honesty in my ears, because… wait, I can because they lyrics about ’28 years of fucking up’ still apply.
Ah, that’s alright then.
Other than that I can think of very few drawbacks. As such I’m not going to complain, unlike some people do when it gets to their nameday.
Shit, too much Game Of Thrones.
Today is beach, beaching pursuits, sitting, eating, drinking, probably eating bad things, doing stuff. I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to be a real person by 29?
Hmm. Ah well.