After a summer of off-and-on Tuesday night trips to Front Porch Pub to participate in Trivia Night, and pitting Aaron’s Bachelor of Arts in Political Science (and 2/3 of a law degree) vs. my Bachelor of Science in Advertising (and 2 years in PR) we’ve come no closer to the end of the “who’s smarter” debate.
Why? I offer up one of tonight’s “top” trivia stumper as Exhibit A: Name 4 stages of mitosis.
Answer 1: Aaron + team of 5 law students (aka “Week 29 of the Global Conspiracy Against Team Voltron”)
Before you judge, try to list 4 in the comments (without cheating!)
It’s okay to be sad for the future of America.
Mark me down for a crisis, I’m officially quarterlife.
Year 24, the highlights:
I got hired and wrote for Houston Press (and developed the annoying little habit of taking photos of everything I eat)
I was published in a book
I met some amazing role models and blogged for them (yes, I just referred to The Bloggess as a role model… scary, huh?)
I moved apartments (and officially live inside the loop!)
I celebrated my second wedding anniversary
I spoke at a couple of conferences about social media
I got a new puppy
I shot a gun for the first time ever
Seriously? For a year I considered rather uneventful and routine, I can’t really imagine how to top it at 25. Maybe it’s time for a couple of goals?
1. Get back to blogging and write more.
2. Actually get in shape and eat right. (something that has been on every goal or resolution list I’ve ever created)
3. Explore craftsy-ness. Maybe open an Etsy shop?
Today while I was trying on a dress at Anthropologie during my lunch break (which I totally don’t do at least once or twice a month or whenever I need to find my happy place) I did something to my neck and sent shooting pain down my shoulder. I’ve always seen in movies where people pull something in their back and hunch over like unattended puppets – their limbs swaying, back stiff and awkwardly sideways – but I’ve never actually experienced it until now.
I am 107 years old.
In other news, I am also getting my tonsils out a week after my 25th birthday this weekend. They told me I would need to take at least a week off of work to recover, thus beginning the process of explaining to my coworkers why exactly I am getting my tonsils out past the age of eight.
It’s funny how monumentally relative something like age can seem.
What is 25 supposed to feel like?