Explanations for today’s traditional post:
(You probably should have seen this year’s theme coming. Press play for the full experience.)
But getting on with the first order of the day -
Dear Jennifer: you’re twenty-freaking-one.
I don’t think I’m equipped to handle this. You’re growing up too fast. I need to be comforted. I need a shock blanket.
Sorry, I’m fine, this has been coming for a while, I suppose. It’s time to celebrate!
And I know just how.
And you shall have -
(Which is delicious, by the way. I checked for you.)
The world would like to thank you, Jennifer, for over two decades of you. You done good. Many thanks for being the Annie to my Abed (is that a thing now? Buzzfeed quizzes, once completed, become a part of your soul’s identity, right?) on our many trips to the dreamatorium. Here’s to many more?
You know, I’m not entirely certain about those quiz-delegated roles. I like to think we’re more Troy and Abed.
(And this way we still get to keep the Dreamatorium)
No matter the outcome of pillow fort vs. blanket fort wars, the interference of the darkest timeline, or one of us leaving the community to sail around the world on a boat left to us by a freaky old man, I love you, and I’ll be there to support you.
(More in spirit than in flesh, if the freaky-old-man-boat thing happens.)
By the by, I’ve realized something truly earth-shattering – all those times I jokingly wrote in your birthday cards,
“(insert appropriate number here) years until you can legally drink!”
THERE ARE ZERO YEARS LEFT. YOU CAN LEGALLY DRINK RIGHT AT THIS SECOND.
But of course, now that you are no longer a minor, I just want to be the millionth person to warn you not to get too crazy.
Weird stuff happens, love.
Mm. That was probably the worst way to convince you to not get plastered. Wait, come back, I have more reasons!
DARKEST TIMELINE, JEN. THE DARKEST TIMELINE WILL ENSUE IF YOU DRINK IN EXCESS. PARTY RESPONSIBLY. AND MAYBE DON’T ROLL DICE JUST TO BE SUPER SAFE.
But of course, there’s some value to be able to drink. All your your non-minor friends (major friends?) may finally admit to you that beer is totally gross, but they have to pretend to like it since they live in Oregon. They may at long last come clean about how “oaky” is not even a thing as far as wine flavors go, and it just sounds cool.
And of course, when I turn 21, I get to just show up at your house for an impromptu
boys’ girls’ night!
Oh no, I just turned our Troy/Abed into Dean/Abed STOP ABORT MISSION
Back on track:
Just remember today, for the rest of your glorious twenty-first year, and basically your life in general -
You are smart,
a joy to be around,
and you are more loved than you can imagine.
I hope you never doubt any of that. May God bless you and keep you in your twenty-first year, and have the very happiest of birthdays.