I'm going to make this short and sweet. Mainly because I am a dolt.
Friday we were celebrating a birthday with friends. The conversation came to how old we are getting. All of us girls are the same age, but the boys vary with Mr. Sass being the oldest (not that that dictates a mature sense of behaviour from him). Someone asked how old he was, and he asked me, "how old am I again?" (I really do wonder how someone doesn't know how old they are). I reply "You're 28 dear. How is it that you still don't know how old you are?" Ha ha cheap shot for me! That's when things went downhill. One of the other 'men' (I use the term loosely) says, "That can't be. I'm 28 and he's older than me."
Oh oh.
The argument ensues and ID has to be taken out. Birth year: 1977. Do the math Ms. Teacher. That makes him 29. I refuse to believe it. I actually called Hella up at work with her mom to ask her. She is the same age, and she's not dumb enough to forget how old she is.
Yup. They are indeed 29 already. (By the way Hella, you are such a MILF..muah!).
Back in October, I made a lovely cake for Mr. Sass and even put a large 28 on it. Now who is the fool? Me.
I don't even know how old my own husband is. Maybe it's because he behaves as if he's 15 most of the time? Either way: shame on me.
Apparently he feels ripped off and wants a 29th birthday party now.
Blow me.