I'm not usually one to toot my own horn, but I let myself do it at least once a year: my birthday. Today I turn 26, that ripe old age when colors begin dimming, and food tastes worse. I'm afraid it's all downhill from here, especially from the perspective of a CF patient, as I am now middle-aged. But hey, I got a bunch of cool birthday stuff. The in-laws sent me a Best Buy gift card, which I immediately used to acquire Tomb Raider: Underworld (it's so beautiful) and the final season of Fullmetal Alchemist. My parents, pitying me after that whole Guitar Hero: World Tour debacle (I told you about that, right?) sent me that game plus the guitar, but without the drum kit (good riddance). Finally, my darling wife bought me Bioshock, which has been called the most significant game yet developed in terms of social commentary, so I'm eager to play it.
Ironically, I'm at work today, and I'm not having my birthday dinner until tomorrow night. Scott and I are preparing for an EPIC debate in front of Gina's argumentative writing course on Wednesday. I'll let you know how it turns out!
Also, my once-a-year moment of superficiality. I present to you all The Most Genetically Perfect Woman on the Planet (aside from my wife, of course). I know, I'm a bad person.