February 28, 2002

One hundred and eighty-three days after your birthday, you're celebrating your anti-birthday. That's the day on which you have as long to wait for your next birthday as you have had since your last birthday.

Depending on time zones and other hair-splittlingly boring details, around midnight tonight (the 28th) I'll be having an anti-birthday. It's been exactly two years since my last birthday (February 29th, 2000), and my next birthday is exactly two years off (February 29th, 2004). To celebrate, I'm having oriental food in those cool little cardboard boxes. There's this awesome little family-owned Chinese restaurant on State Street in Orem, Utah called "China Bowl," and I've been cheerfully patronizing them (the good kind of patronizing... the kind where I buy stuff) for a while now. The only problem is that their food is so tasty that I'll pull a goldfish and eat until I can't fit into my office (or I'll just eat until it's all gone, whichever comes first).

For those of you wondering how old I'll be (it's still possible to count years without being able to name a particular day--trust me), just do the math. Leap Years are uncommon enough that there are only a few ages I could possibly be, and without turning to the biographical information I've so conveniently posted you ought to be able to guess.

There is no prize. This one's too easy. But if you want to email me birthday wishes and take a stab at it, feel free.

If you'd rather click on something funny, a buddy of mine at work passed me this URL today, which has pictures of what might be described as a boating accident.

In completely unrelated news, previous entrys are available via the handy little buttons below. I only bring it up because somebody emailed me and asked (you know who you are).

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