Last night I went to a 21st birthday for someone I work with at the bar. And it was, interesting.

While at 26 I am still a bit of a spring chicken myself, there I swear I was one of only a handful of people over the age of 22. And again was also just one of a handful of people who weren’t blind drunk on redbull vodkas and champagne and jumping all over each other!

Not that that is a bad thing - a couple of years ago you wouldn’t be able to distinguish me from the rest. But while I ...

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