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Happy New Amsterdam Gin


Wie seid ihr denn überhaupt in meine Wohnung reingekommen?
Wisst ihr eigentlich, wie ihr mich ankotzt? 
- DCVDNS "23"


I'm fairly confident that I've mentioned this before, but I do enjoy getting older. Maybe it's because I don't feel like I've experienced any particular set of years that I would refer to as my "glory days". High school was fine. I wasn't overly popular, but I had a solid circle of friends, made good grades, participated in a number of extra-curricular activities, never got into a serious amount of trouble, had cool parents, etc. Going away to college was particularly transformative and generally cool. My mid-to-late 20s were chaotic and full of a bunch of insane shit. So I'm certainly not striving to revisit any of that and, in a lot of ways, I'm actually actively trying to avoid ever going through it again.

So each year, I'm like, "Cool...I'm older." A few more gray hairs than before...so what?

Still, I wasn't feeling particularly festive this year and, thus, didn't have a party. I still might have a party later, because calendars are not the boss of me. But even thought I didn't throw a party, I got lots of lovely phone calls and messages and a cake:

There's something in this pic that I didn't mean to photograph. 
Can you spot it?

It's nice to have those little reminders (at least once a year) that people are thinking of you. Even if it's a phone call at 9am in the morning, after getting home at 5am. Or indulging in an evening of beer, Ben Affleck, and some truly bizarre episodes of Workaholics. Or even a really bizarre Facebook post from your younger sister:


Yes, Happy New Amsterdam Gin to me!

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