Actually, they say it's my birthday. And that's because it is. I turn 29 today. It's not the most culturally significant of birthdays (and let's face it, after you turn 21, the only major birthdays left are the ones that are multiples of 5), but still pretty cool because, hey, people give you stuff and then you eat cake. Nothing wrong with that.
No big plans, just dinner (hopefully someplace where the waiters don't sing to you; man, do I hate that!) and a trip to see The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Roger Ebert be damned). And then a night of crying myself to sleep in my pillow because I am becoming horribly old.
Okay, fine, not really. I never thought I'd feel this way, but I'm actually enjoying getting older. I've really enjoyed my late twenties, probably more than any other period of my life (especially the teenage years; if those really were supposed to be the best point in peoples' lives, I think the high school suicide rate would skyrocket). Life and family are getting established, you can go places when you want, stay up as late as you want, spoil your appetite without fear of parental intervention and consequences... being a grown-up kind of rules.
If it's your birthday, too (Willie Nelson and Kirsten Dunst, I'm looking at you!), then I hope you enjoy it as well. If it isn't, find an excuse to eat cake anyway. Cake makes everything better.