Aging

Today right before lunch a guy that works in my floor asked me how old I was. I gave him my age minus one year -it really makes no difference one more or one less at this point in my life, but it usually takes me almost six months to realize that I already had a birthday, and like three more months to realize that one more birthday is looming on the horizon. I ain't no birthday boy my friends, as I stated in my previous post.

The thing is that this dude was like "no way!", and looked at me like if I had told him that I had been born in the International Space Station and brought to earth in a yellow school bus. "Then how fucking old do you think I am?" -I asked him, without the F word in the middle of course.


He came up with a number FIVE years below the number of Christmas that I've spent -and some would say wasted- in this planet. FIVE! can you believe that? And I was wearing my tie and glasses which are suppose to make me look a bit wiser and mature (like a Nerd in other words).

Good thing he hasn't read this blog, otherwise he would think that I'm frikking nineteen and fresh out of high school!