salad days

It's my barfday, gonna party like it's mah barf day. I am 21. Instead of an alocohlic beverage, at midnight, I consumed a monster burrito. Vegan. Straight edge. Dude.

Last night Johnny and Amanda and I laid in the middle of hogwarts, our favorite enchanted-ass forest in the middle of the law quad and they talked about Harry Potter and my dome wandered elsewhere and I thought about how quickly things have changed for me in just a month. No regrets, though. Life is what happens while we're making plans. So we're laying in the dark and I keep hearing what I think is somebody sneaking around by us, trying to chop our heads off. Instead, a sprinkler in the ground, aimed directly at my face shoots on, straight at my glasses and we all tumble around out of it's path, kicking and screaming.

I love how that place actually feels like magic, like there's some little freak leprechaun playing tricks on us in there. I bet the air is made of wizard breath and dragon farts.

In any case, it's been a great start to my birthday. Thanks, babiez.