Like Agnes, Agatha, Jermaine, and Jack.

Well, tonight is officially the last night of my 20's. And while I would like to spout some "age ain't nuttin' but a number" bullshit, I have to admit that yes, it bothers me. I'm hardly the first of my friends to celebrate this particular birthday this year, and I've thought quite a bit about the inevitable mopey, self-indulgent blog post that I would eventually write about how I am very happy with where I am in life, but I'm still in debt, I'm still single and living in a basement, I worry about never finding someone who will love me and have my babies, blah blah blah.

But if there's one thing this blog doesn't need, it's mopey self-indulgence.

So instead, I am taking a birthday poll.

A friend of mine (who may or may not read this blog) sent me flowers at work yesterday. They caused quite a stir on the 4th floor. Damn near made Labmate's head explode.

Wait, I should back up - I was in a meeting with Fearless Leader when they arrived, and a technician from one of the other groups on our floor accepted the delivery. He brought them to Labmate, with the intent that she would make sure I got them, but Labmate just sees someone coming at her with a bouquet. Her thought process was as follows (and I swear I am not making this up - this is straight from the horse's mouth):

"Oh my gosh!!! Who could they be from???
I know they're not from Boyfriend, because he would never send me flowers!!!
MAYBE THEY'RE FROM A SECRET ADMIRER!!!
Oh... they're for Beth.
Now I REALLY need to know who they're from!!!"

Excessive punctuation has been added to reflect the psychotic glint present in Labmate's eyes when I came back from my meeting.

Meanwhile, I exit Fearless Leader's office, and the guy who sits at the desk directly facing mine is sitting out there, and asks some random question about the length of my meeting, then mumbles something about there being something on my desk. Ever the eloquent and sparkling conversationalist, I say:

"Huh?"

Guy #1: Nothing...

I walk around to put my laptop back in the hallway so that I can get back to work, and there's another guy from another neighboring group out there.

Guy #2: Your labmates are looking for you. There's, like, something wrong...with one of your experiments...or something.

Nice try. I haven't RUN any experiments today. Okay fine, I'll bite. I enter the lab. Am greeted by the aforementioned Labmate with the psychotic Need to Know. So I see the flowers, and figure out immediately who they are from, based purely on the location indicated on the delivery slip. So I'm trying to dig the card out of the bouquet without messing too much with the wrappings, because I'll need those relatively intact in order to get the flowers home safely.

I am apparently taking too long to do this. Apparently.

Labmate is now vibrating.

I open the card, and it confirms my suspicions.
Me: Aww...yep, that's what I thought.

Labmate: WHO ARE THEY FROM????

Me: They're from (name of friend who may or may not read this blog).

Labmate: Oh.

Still vibrating. Seriously, never seen this girl so excited about anything in the year I have known her. And she is a highly excitable individual.

I should add here that every pair of eyes in the surrounding area is currently focused on me. Including people who I have never seen before in my life, who I am convinced are only pretending to work at instruments so they can find out who the flower girl is and why. The flowers get put in a huge graduated cylinder because it's the only thing around with a big enough opening to hold them (vases are surprisingly hard to come by in a laboratory environment, but glassware is plentiful) and I go back out into the hall so I can work on my design in peace.

Sort of.

Chatty Nasal Girl from one of the other groups comes along and asks me about the flowers. Why they came...who they came from...I explain that they are from a friend. Just a friend. And yet, somehow I get the feeling she doesn't believe me. Maybe because she says so.

Now, as I'm trying to explain that yes, it is in fact possible for a friend to send me flowers just because it's my birthday, the VGLM happens to wander by. So I pose the question to him, for a male perspective:

Me: Hey! (VGLM)! What do you think? Is it possible for a guy to send a girl flowers without some sort of romantic motive?
VGLM: (thinking almost as hard about this as he did about whether or not he wanted to see Evil Dead: The Musical...which, contrary to what you may be thinking, is some serious contemplation indeed) ...It's...possible. But I wouldn't say likely.
Me: Kinda like a UFO. Or a yeti.
VGLM: Yes!

I find this whole thing fascinating. And so, I pose the question to you, my handful of beloved readers. You may answer as many times as you like. Feel free to expound in the comments, anonymously or otherwise. You will need a #2 pencil and a calculator.


And now, for the self-indulgent portion of the program: When I really think about it, the last decade of my life has encompassed higher highs and lower lows than I ever could have known were possible. Mistakes have definitely been made, but I think I can honestly say that I regret nothing. Okay, except maybe the unfortunate spending habits. And I can only hope that 10 years from now I can say the same, except with a big, fat retirement account and a good credit rating. Some of you have known me since I was a teenager, and I thank you for sticking with me this long. If you're still here, I guess that means you're stuck with me. Others have only known me a short while, or maybe even not at all, but who knows where we'll be in the next decade.

And to all those here, there, or somewhere in between, I say:

Salut!
Nosdrovya!
Cheers.
Here's to our Roaring 30's.
(clink)