Today I am twenty-four years old. Older than Super Nintendo, younger than the World Trade Towers. 

I’ve got more years on me than Mickey Rourke’s chin, but less than Cher’s tits.

Twenty-four years. Woopity doo.

I burst through the vagina at exactly 4:44 PM, February 16th, 1985 (consult your Almanacs). I was greasy and irey: thespians will recognize this as foreshadowing. A welcomed changed from months in the womb, I was a stand-out example of what a baby should be.  What a baby can be.

Did you bring a coat? Good, cause I’m about to take you on a journey.

Did you know: Everyone has a birthday. Even you.

So it’s your birthday: Who gives a shit?

Right. Birthdays, rather the celebration and promotion of one’s own birthday, is tacky, pathetic and sad. However I do believe and try very hard to make other people’s birthdays special. Last year I was an accessory to planning Bob Woolsey’s surprise party. I often send cards to my sister on her birthday. These are prime examples of my charity. I am a philanderer.

I’m really good withbirthday cards. Like, exceptional. I can tickle your funny-bone and touch your heart all with the same hand motion. My old standbyby is buying a card unrelated to a birthday- bat mitzvah, pet death- and crossing out select words in the card message so that it is hilarious and vaguely birth-related. Other times I’ll make a card by hand with crayons and construction paper, as a developmentally disabled child would.

If you have a birthday and a mailing address, I will send you a card: email andrew@bobandandrew.com. I also give relationship advice and Vegas over/unders for NCAA basketball. Do NOT take my advice.

24 Years Old

James Dean died at 24. He was a famous actor (a.k.a. “factor”) because he was young and attractive like Billy Crudup or Emile Hirsch. I think he was also Howard Dean’s grandfather. Or Jimmy Dean’s brother. Did he make sausages? I don’t know and frankly don’t give half a fuck.

The Notorious B.I.G. also died when he was 24. He was shot, and if memory serves me it had something to do with Tupac or Puff Daddy or Tupac and Puff Daddy.  The B.I.G. died in 1997. In 1997, I was 12. Weird!

I was born in the year of our Lord, 1985. I don’t remember much about the 80s, except that my dad had a beard and Jimmy Page-like hair that probably led to him bedding a women, a.k.a. my mother. My dad is my inspiration for my 2009 “No New Haircuts” Policy, though I strive to look like 1960s Neil Young. Look at that magnificent man.

(Editor’s note: Andrew has since gotten a haircut and disappointed his father immensely.)

During the eighties, in addition to pooping in a bag and being fed by hand, I found it difficult to reach things in high places. That is my collective knowledge of that decade. We’ll move on.

Life Lessons

While I may not possess the gumption of say a 52 year old or 71 year old, I have, in my brief years, amassed some knowledge that I feel is worthsharing. And since creating a humorous list is the easiest way to wrap up a blog, I leave you with:

“Andrew’s Seventeen Life Lessons: Volume One”

1. Wear socks. Always wear socks.
2. If in doubt, go with the Olive Garden.
3. Beer is a suitable meal replacement if you drink two or more.
4. Do not take your pants off until someone else in the room has already done so.
5. Eat your vegetables. They make you strong so you can fight.
6. Do not underestimate the power of a good sandwich.
7. Drunk dialing = Bad idea
8. Batman does not exist. Do not invest in a bat-signal.
9. Never pass the dutchie on the right hand side.
10. At best racism can only seldom break a tense social situation.
11. If you can build a good snow fort, you will make it through elementary school.
12. If you’re around a whole bunch of people who like cats, do not exclaim your disdain for cats.
13. You’re not a man until you take a puck to the unprotected stomach, arm, leg, back, shin, buttocks, hand or face.
14. Any argument about music (especially with the female species) is not worth having.
15. The c-word is to be used sparingly if at all around women.
16. Invest in a good hat.
17. Anyone who quotes movies in everyday conversation is probably a rancid cunt.

I’m going to spend my special day doing all of the things I enjoy: I’ll go for a walk, eat a sandwich, stare longingly at the Burrard Inlet while lamenting my failures… I’ll probably catch a movie too.

Happy birthday, everybody. See you next year.