Know what I hate? No? I'll tell you anyway. I hate the use of the phrase 67 years young! Hate it! Hate it! Hate it! I'm 67 years old dammit. I have earned every single grey hair, every single wrinkle, and the fact that I am still here and going strong. I remember my Mothers last birthday about a month before she passed away. A group of well meaning medical workers had a small party for her, where she was basically forced to wear a party hat. That is cute when you are 7 years old, but, at 87 and terminal, it is just one more loss of the dignity that she fought to maintain throughout he life and illness. I told my daughters that if I am ever in that situation and they don't stop it from happening, I am going to haunt them for eternity. Does that seem too harsh?