I'm sure my mom will also email me about this

So, this morning I sent out an email about the Spectacular that said:

It all goes down tomorrow night! When I was eight years old, I had the worst birthday party ever, at McDonald's. When we arrived, a McDonald's employee in a clown suit told us that he had forgotten to take the birthday cake out of the freezer and it was frozen solid, so instead, he brought out a Big Mac with a candle in it. Now, twenty-one years later, I have scores of people, sexy burlesque performers, muscial comedy, Latin music from my spelling bee co-host bobbyblue, and the old-tyme stylings of the Two Man Gentlemen Band. Life is good. Come help me celebrate! Tomorrow night!

It has been pointed out that I cannot do math.

Actually, I am very good at high-school level math, as I teach it for a living. I don't know what happened here. I am turning 27.

Update from Brian Van:: 8 + 21 = 29. So you are 29 years old, when you are really 27. (I'm the math nerd to your english nerd) Still, though, that's a really crappy birthday party. Did they run out of apple pies or ice cream? Is that the perfect gift for an eight-year-old, a 600-calorie behemoth with 25 grams of saturated fat? It was probably bigger than your head at the time. (did you eat the whole thing?)

(Yes, I did, and they also brought us McDonald's sundaes).