Other than being able to rent a car without ridiculous fees, turning 25 doesn't carry much glitz or glamour. Except that now I feel like a legitimate adult. (Legitimate adult. Ha. If you consider eating Dairy Queen for dinner something a legitimate adult would do, then ok.)
The Man has taken every opportunity to remind me of my age, and I can't blame him really. He's a young, hot, muscular man who works in security and I'm the mature, poised, older woman who works in the office. What can I say? In his words, I'm a cougar. (Although a 14 month age difference hardly constitutes a cougar in my opinion. I may be a wanna-be Jew by marriage, but I'm no Demi Moore.)
Does anyone know if prune juice is on sale at The Jewel?