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I have been seventeen now for just over four hours. Truly, it is a novel experience. Sure, I got chicken fingers for dinner when we went out, like I've done every year since I was five, but this year, I only put three toppings on my sundae. (Not counting whipped cream, because who the hell counts whipped cream?)

The only other thing which I have to say on this momentous day is: hey, sophomore kid who was bragging at length about the "stupid, pathetic" freshman girl you make fun of on the bus. The seniors you were trying to impress with that story? Are not amused. I know we already let you know, but I think it bears repeating.