I just recently turned the pivotal age of 21. The age when buying silly sauce no longer means I have to ask a senior or grow out a beard and put on a deeper voice. The age when spending all my singles on a half naked woman is legal. The age when mommy and daddy start rearranging your room... for your eventual move out. The age when my fridge is 75 percent beer, 24 percent soda, and 1 percent chinese food from that night I ordered out but couldn't finish my dumplings. Ah, the age when I have to run a background check on any one night stand ("How old are you?"). The age when people stop telling you, "You can do anything," and start asking you, "What are you going to do?"
Well, I'll tell you what I'm going to do: I'm going to make a name for myself. I'm going to cock out with my rock out in my last year at Wesleyan University. I'm going to make 5 short films over the next year (look for them on my production company's blog, which goes up september 10). I'm going to tell a hipster that dressing like you have no money is a slap in the face to those that have no money. I'm going to shave my ass. That's right, just shave it. I'm going to get a pet monkey and call him zebra, just to fuck with him.
If you wanna celebrate (belatedly) my 21st birthday, come down to the Broadway Comedy Club on September 27 at 8:30pm and laugh so hard your grandma will giggle.
The Fat Cakehead