It's official.

I'm really excited for my birthday weekend. Not just because I love a day (which I usually drag into an entire week) where I get to celebrate all that is NJ and have others pay attention to me, but.. no, that's pretty much why I love it.

This year is 28. It's not really that old in the grand scheme of things. And I know anyone who is older than 28 will tell me to shove it, but bear with me.

Since I am ONLY 28, most of what I remember in my life has happened in my 20s. As I get closer to 30, I know things aren't really going to change, but shouldn't they? Will they? All I'm sure of is that I'm going to spend the weekend drunk at the beach and it's supposed to be 75 and sunny and I can't WAIT!

Now, this was all a set-up to get you into the mindset I've been in for a few weeks. Now, fast forward (or rewind) to this evening at work. We hired a new girl, senior at Sunset, 17, adorable. She tells me that I remind her of someone. Someone from TV. Uh-huh, I say, go on.

Do you remember the show Gilmore Girls, she asks? Oh, I used to love that show, I respond. Sensing something big, and preparing for the worst, I urge her to continue.

You remind me of the mom. Remember when she opens the bed and breakfast? I can totally see you doing that, she states, unwittingly and casually ruining any false hope I had of staying young forever.

Now, don't get me wrong here. There are FAR worse people I could remind a young person of... I suppose. And Lorelai was only a teenager when she had Rory, so I guess in the first few seasons the mom was barely older than I am now.

But still. The mom. THE MOM. As in, I am now officially grown up. Old.

At least I didn't remind her of Gangy from Arrested Development. If I'd had a martini in hand, it'd be a different story.