Apparently, I'm thirty-two.
I went to my Blog 365 page and it said, "That Chick, age 32"
And I laughed and said, "Hey, Jason! Look at this! They have my age wrong. I guess they are just looking at the year and not looking at the date."
And Jason said, as is expected when dealing with Jason, "What the heck are you looking at anyway? Is that porn?"
Anyway, a few minutes later he said, "Babe, what are you talking about anyway?"
I said, "Chicken. No wait. What?"
He said, "Your age. You're thirty-two."
I laughed. Oh, how I laughed.
"No, I'm not," I said. "I'm thirty-one."
"No," he said, patiently. "I'M thirty-one. You're thirty-two."
"No," I said, a sense of dread and horror overcoming me, "I'm...but...I'm..."
"You're thirty-two," he said and turned on The Simpsons, totally unfazed.
It's not that I mind being thirty-two. It's not old or anything. I'm in the prime of my life or some crap.
The only thing that bothers me is I FORGOT HOW OLD I AM. I sincerely, seriously thought I was thirty-one.
GAH. ALZHEIMER'S OR WHATEVER THE CRAP.