Seriously, I would never have thought that 24 was old. I mean, mid-twenties! Sure, I've had my joking moments, like at the N*Sync concert (shut up, I went with a friend and didn't pay for the ticket and DON'T JUDGE ME) and the kids in front of us didn't know who "Deborah" Gibson was. That sort of stuff. But what sealed it for me was about two hours ago when Alex, the kid I babysit for said the following: "That Lego set you got me for my birthday is tight." What the hell?! You're 8! The only things that should be "tight" are your pants because of growth spurts. But that's not the worst part, oh no. Alex was flinging himself about the room like a spaz, which is fine, and I said, "Kid, you have lost your MARBLES!" He looked down, and I said, "What? You're crazy!" Alex said "Well, I have marbles there, too, with my penis." Ohmygod you're 8! Why would that even occur to you? Why are you saying the word "penis"? I'm 24 and I still giggle half the time I say it. The word butthole sends you into convulsions! Don't say that word, even if it is anatomically correct! Sweet god, you're freaking me out!
And that, my friends, is the tragic tale of how I got old.
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