titles wrote:Twenty five is the first birthday that's blah. What kind of comparison is a decrease in auto insurance to nights at the bar? None. And a quarter century? You go from college to almost fifty. Wasn't a fan myself.
I loved 25! Right after I turned 25, I did a play, went to the Cannes Film Fest (all expenses paid by my job at the time), moved to LA, and had an all-around awesome year.
30, on the other hand, was not terribly fun. My birthday is the day after St. Patrick's Day. I had just moved to Chicago with three friends from LA and they couldn't wait for me to finish working, so they headed out to the bars without me--at 10am. By the time I met them out--at 4pm--they were so sloshed that I had to play babysitter to three sloppy 28-31 year old women. After Ginny (one of my roommates) got kicked out of the bar we were in for first walking into the mens' room and then pouring a beer on a totally random girl because she wouldn't drink Ginny's leftover beer, she had a random strange guy bring her to my house. She lost her keys and had to break in through the window, breaking the window in the process and teaching a total stranger how to break into my house. That came out of my $5k security deposit (the lease was in my name). Happy birthday to me!
Morals of the story: 25 can still be loads of fun. I wouldn't even think about worrying 'til you hit 30. And also, don't ever lease a house and then allow an alcoholic tramp to be your roommate.