11:27 p.m.

Panic stricken

192 hours, 33 minutes, 27 seconds

Iíve changed my countdown to reflect the next phase in my life...old age. I will turn a quarter of a century on Saturday, and Iím beginning to feel the wrinkles forming. Anxiety about school has been replaced with anxiety about my life. Twenty five years on this planet and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. No husband (not even a fling to speak of), no offspring, no house, nothing to call my own but a few fading tattoos, a hole in my tongue, a beat up car and a beat up dog.

Iím impatient. I want to be through with college, a successful homeowner and upstanding citizen that contributes to society. All I am now is a leech on my mother and the general public.

Iím beginning to notice parallels in my life and that of a 50 year-old balding man going through a midlife crisis.

1. I basically quit my job and started college. Not far from Mr. Fifty quitting his job, selling his house and becoming a nomad.

2. I am surrounded by gorgeous, virile 18 year-old guys, and I feel the urge to molest them. Iím sure I could teach them a few things, and Iím fairly certain eighteen year-olds are exceedingly eager to learn. Damn my morals, and fear of being laughed at by my peers. Oh, Mr. Midlife Crisis, I feel your pain.

3. I have this incredible urge to buy a new car. Not a Ferrari, Lamborghini, or God forbid a DeLorean, but a fuel saving Prius. Guys go for speed, I go for economy.

4. I completely changed my hair, waxed my body and bought a new wardrobe. Ok, maybe not a completely new wardrobe, but enough that I feel guilty about it. Soon, Iíll be pricing hair pieces and extensions.

5. I canít remember what I did yesterday, let alone last week. I think itís the beginning of Alzheimerís.

So, maybe I exaggerate a bit, but Iím feeling increasingly paranoid about my impending birthday.

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