No tomatoes, please

 In eight days I will be legally able to walk into an ABC store, buy the largest bottle of the hardest liquor I can find, and laugh in the face of the clerk who dares test the legality of my purchase. Because, yeah, I’ll be 21. And even though I’ll look like I’m 15 until I die, I can totally smack every waiter, bartender, grocery store cashier and the like in the face with my awesome twenty-one-ness.

God I can’t wait. I’m gonna make all those crazy drinks like I’ve always wanted to try, but don’t have the alcohol in the house to make. Like a vodka gimlet. Or a sidecar. What’s that? I dunno, but it’s probably awesome. I apparently have the magical power to mix amazazing drinks (I know this because I have worked many a nighttime catering in private residences, where old people get super drunk, and therefore do not feel the need to ID me before I give them their 6th drink), so I shall be so putting my mutant power to good use. Happy birthday to me!