In one week, I'll be turning 20 years old. This is quite the milestone as I will no longer be a nubile young teen, but rather a "young adult". My teenage years will be a thing of the past. Gone will be the awkwardness around girls, the uncontrollable sweating, the zits and the cracking voice (well, I'm sure they'll be gone in a few years at least). Unlike my teen years, where hair started to appear where there was no hair, I find now that hair is disappearing where once there was hair. Soon, I'll be forced to use rogaine or hair plugs. Even worse than this could be the dreaded combover a la Ben Solomon. Next thing you know, I'm on viagra. Well, let's be fair, that's a few decades away. Right now, even the mention of "cumquats" or "cockpit" makes Sergio stand at attention.

As you can see, I have a bit of a complex about turning 20. It really shouldn't be such a big deal since everyone who meets me swears that I'm 25. It is though. I guess it's because I feel that I must start making responsible decisions about my life. Before, all important decisions in my life were made by either my mom or rocks, papers, scissors. Now, everyone wants to know what are career plans after I graduate. How the #$@ do I know? It's at least 3 years from now, and even then I can go to graduate school (which I plan on doing to avoid "real life" for a while). I have enough problem deciding what I'm going to wear tomorrow. And what's with everyone so concerned about jobs these days? All they do is suck the life out of you an makes you a hunchback and a slave to the man. Well, maybe that's just my bitterness towards my job, but still... To think about a job that will be a focal point of your life is quite the daunting task. The sheer question alone brings stress to the unprepared. "Ummm, I don't really know what I want to be. Maybe a gigolo." Suffice to say, my aunt didn't find this answer quite as satisfying as she would have liked. The point is, and yes I do have a point and this is not just me typing random thoughts (what's up with the theme song for "Walker: Texas Ranger"?), is that adulhood and its inherent responsibility are not something I'm looking forward to.

I know some of you are saying, "Man, turning 20 is not really a big deal. You're not really that old, daddy-o!". (Well, those of you still living in the 1970's would be talking like that). In response, I ask you to ponder this: remember when you were thirteen, what did you think about those who were 20 years old. You're damn right they were old. And now look at what we've become. Well, I for one am going to buck the trend towards old age and senility.

I will do this in a two-pronged attack. First prong: look young. Second prong: act young. The first prong in my two-pronged attack consists in me wearing all sorts of Pokemon attire (no, I am not trying to look Japanese) and dying my hair some ridiculous colour bound to shock all the old folks (take that you twenty-somethings). Also I will get a piercing, preferably but not necessarily in my ear. Also, my pants really should be too large for my body. The second prong in my two-pronged attack will involve alot, I repeat alot, of listening to NSync, O-town, and any other gay all-male bands. That and limiting my vocabulary to the point of being incomprehensible. These two prongs of attack are what I like to call my two-pronged attack. Or Mission: Immature 2. (The sequel is never quite as good as the original.......huh?).

Well, actually looking at the ass I would make of myself and let's not fool ourselves, young people look like asses, I think that I'll be alright with turning 20. My 20's will be the best years yet. I'm so fresh and so clean, I've got my sh*t together and I can still boogie all night long. And while I await my birthday, I guess I'll just sit back, sip on my prune juice and complain about the weather no matter what it is. That and pick up some, ummm, biagra to cure my problem with the old get-up-and-go.