Buffy the Killjoy

Today is my half-birthday. I'm 30 and a half. Just think, yesterday I was merely 30. Now I'm 30 and a half. It's like my life is there in front of me in sharp focus, beckoning me onward. "Jump in, the water's nice," it says. "But probably don't bring in the plugged-in blow dryer your holding. You'll kill us all." My life is such a killjoy.

So, I've had some pretty sweet half-birthdays. Once, my family went skiing at Whistler in British Columbia. Because we're yuppies, that's why. So yuppie, in fact, that we didn't even call our accommodations a "hotel." Nay, we called it a "chateau." And we all called each other "Buffy" during the whole vacation. I admit it got a little confusing, because you could never really tell who was talking to who.

Dad: "Hey, Buffy, could you throw me the remote?"
Me: "Do you mean me? Or her?"
Dad: "Doesn't matter. Just one of you Buffies please throw me the remote."
Sister: "You throw it, Buffy."
Mom: "Did somebody say something to me?"
Me: "No, Buffy."
Dad: "Did you call me?"

Man, that was a great half-birthday. That's all I got. Leave a comment. C'mon, what else have you got going?