I'm Thirty-Seven. I'm Not Old

No, I haven't been called "old woman", nor have I been called "Dennis". Today does, however, mark the day that I finally fit into the remainder of that particular Monty Python quote. So far, the birthday events have been pretty darn fantastic. I received a case of JAX (regular, not the icky crunchy kind) from my parents. Sent because that particular snack food item cannot be found in Arizona. If you're saying "Why don't you just eat Cheetos?", then go bash yourself in the head with something. Plush or otherwise, as I'm feeling generous. They're not the same, dammit. And you can't truly call yourself a geek without a predilection for a fake cheese puffed-corn snack that turns everything in a ten-foot radius orange. In a slightly larger scale, I finally broke down and got a new computer. Not the break down in the curled-up-in-a-ball-and-weeping-uncontrollably sense, but stopped resisting the notion to buy one. Seeing as I'm on the computer for more hours than most people are awake in a day, every day, it's justified. Plus, my old computer was making a rather un-computerlike noise that I couldn't figure out, so it was better to get a new one than have the other one melt. (I would have had a breakdown, then.) It's a nifty dual-core XPS, and it's ridiculously fast. However, my only option was to have Vista pre-installed. I'm not terribly thrilled with that, but I've decided to give it a chance and see how it goes. Initial impression: meh.
Deb has made me (us) a chocolate cake with chocolate and vanilla frosting, and tomorrow's special meal will consist of a free steak dinner from the fine folks at Black Angus Steakhouse. (I provided that link primarily for the people who read that name too quickly and were shocked by what you misread. You know who you are.)
So, I'm one year closer to 40, one year closer to seeing something like this: