At midnight I will be thirty two years old. Assuming that in the next eight hours and ten minutes I do not 1. get distracted by my ipod and walk off a cliff (again) 2. mix ammonia and bleach 3. get distracted by my ipod and walk onto an airfield 4. strike up a friendly conversation with a dog walker who turns out to be taking a variety of psychotropic drugs to keep him from acting on his fantasies of torturing people slowly (again) 5. mix Xanax with tequila (again) 6. concentrate so hard on adjusting the AC that I drive into a brick wall. Again.

So, there's really no guarantee I'll make it. But if I do, I have birthday resolutions.

1.Be nicer to stupid people.
2.Narrow my definition of stupid.
3.Argue with people more, except Jeff.
4.Argue with Jeff less.
5.Learn to love decaf.

I should probably add "stop walking down to the mailbox at four in the afternoon in salsa stained pajamas" but five resolutions is a good enough start.

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