Unfortunately, I can't claim this cool Scooby-Doo cake to be my own. I just found the photo on the Interweb. But I do turn a quarter-of-a-century today.

I normally avoid any celebration of my birthday like the plague, but this year I'm taking it one further. Since 25 lands right between 24 (24 beers) and 26 (26 oz. of something tasty), I will spend my birthday shoveling snow for most of the day. There is a good chance that my only break will be for a mind-numbing three-hour Calculus class at night.

Happy Birthday indeed.

So, to all of the young, beautiful, energetic kids out there, with your fancy shoes, Mini-I-Pods, and excessive body-piercing, I say this: Enjoy it while it lasts, fuckers. You blink and it's all gone, man.

One day you're doing lines off a strippers ass, and the next you're begging the old lady next to you, to tell you where she hid the Viagra. The kids turn from bright-eyed eager young minds into the ungrateful, antisocial freaks of nature you always feared. The white-picket-fence you were once so proud of, are transformed into the walls that confine you to your self-determined sentence.

To the grumpy old bastards and psychotic old spinsters, I have this to say: Thanks for showing me the way. Your generation has taught me much.

I've learned that the virtue of bitterness only comes over time. Like a fine wine, it also gets better with age. I've learned that change is the most terrifying experience a human can endure, and should be fought at all costs. Anything that appears to be "different" should be treated as if it's inheritantly evil.

Now, I'm going to shovel snow. And I'm going to enjoy it, because I can. Because I'm Twenty-Five.