Yeah, I know, what the original hell is up with that? Another damned birthday… and I’m just as happy about it as I’ve been about all of them since 49…
And before you make me eyeroll you, yes I know there’s lots of people who are not getting to celebrate birthdays anymore. Yes, I’m well aware that any year above ground is automatically a pretty good one (or so “they” say). And yes, I understand fully that my record for surviving these things is currently at 100% so why would it change?
Well there’s a plethora of reasons for that… but I’m treating that exactly like I do the low tire pressure warning light in my car – put a Post It note over it and just keep driving. But to be clear… I do not have to be happy about the low tire warning… nor do I have to be happy about another damned birthday that reminds me once again that I am getting older.
Wait? Wut? Did that guy in the back say I’m already old? You sir (to quote one of Bob’s old girlfriends) are a charlatan and a trickster… kindly move along to the next blog or I shall report you to the authorities.
Now where was I? Since I’m developing the skill of forgetting what I’m working on whilst I’m working on it… not really… okay maybe a little. Anyway… blah blah blah… getting older… another birthday… woe is me… that’s basically it. So I hope someone does something with a cake… buttercream may be the only thing that makes this reality tolerable. And I hope someone does something with a nice drink or 12 so I might be able to block the happy joy funtime that my 53d birthday is likely to bring. And finally I hope I live long enough to halfassed celebrate another one of these damned things.
Yes… really… no… not kidding.
After all, with 2017 going the way it has so far it’s looking like 53 is going to be a pretty entertaining “year in the life”… and that means 54 has a tough act to follow… somebody better hold it’s beer… the possibilities are practically endless! And yes, in case you just missed that change in tone, despite my grumbling and carrying on I’m actually pretty glad to still be around to “celebrate” these damned things. Do I wish it was my 33d? Of course. But only if I can take everything I’ve so painfully learned over the last 20 years with me. Sorry but if I had to live through that many near-death experiences and ridiculous plot twists I’m not giving up the life lessons. And let’s all just admit that I’ve had some pretty damned entertaining lessons over this life.
Hahahahahahahahaha… yeah, right… er, whatevs…
So anyway… I guess it’s time to embrace this tar baby and make it mine. I’m not getting any younger after all. My first gray hairs given to me by year 52 is a testimony to that reality. Thanks Obama… and the calendar… and everyone else who deserves blame for the fact that I have to celebrate something so very sad… the passing of my youth.
And sometime around June 11th I hope there’s someone out there who will help make this thing a bit less onerous or at least amusing. So let’s have a drink and maybe a laugh about how ridiculous getting older actually is. You do you… I plan to continue twerking my way into this decade and your friendship and forebearance are both very much appreciated.
Here goes nothing…