23 and countin'

I hit the twenty-three mark yesterday. Twenty-three years on the surface of this land (and occasionally the subway), crow I'm old. Two years away from the "auntie" age... another little step towards the middle age. Twenty-three.

I went to the bar yesterday, drank quite a bit. A shitload of shooters, a number of beers I cannot quite remember and some snacks. Not as many smokes as I was expecting. Then I came home, cooked something quick at three in the morn and watched The Breakfast Club (1985) which in fact came out on the very year I was born in. I love The Breakfast Club ever since I saw it, a whole lot of years in the past. And a good deal of cool actors too, a pity most of them didn't do a lot of good stuff afterwards. Let's see, can't think of anything I saw Ally Sheedy star that caught my interest... Molly Ringwald down the same path, both of them starred in Stephen King movies, which... despite my love for his books, are usually really bad. Judd Nelson goes down the same road, according to IMDb, he was in a few movies I saw, but frankly, hardly noticed him. Anthony Michael Hall is another poor victim of Stephen King adaptations. And Emilio Estevez, possibly the best known of the lot... don't think I saw something with him I liked since this.

For shits and giggles I also watched The Number 23 this morning... should you do so as well, be aware that it sucks like nobody's business. Weak plot, weak ending twist, and frankly, someone should tell Jim Carey to stick to comedy.

So while I prepare myself for the week of torture and despair that usually follows my birthday (namely, going out with the Pops, receiving some four or five phone calls from family members who always confuse numbers 10 and 14, 15 or 18 as birthdays go, and talking to those people I only contact with once a year on this particular occasion), I leave you with the suggestion to watch The Breakfast Club in case you never did (and why didn't you?), and here's to hoping for the next year equivalent of yesterday.