Tomorrow is my birthday so I would like to take this moment to wish myself a wonderful and happy birthday.
That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I share a birthday with Michael Jordan, Lou Diamond Phillips and Paris Hilton. But you all know that already because the gossip columns are full of the late night antics and stories of Young Guns star, LDP.
Wait, no they're not. It is a very depressing notion that people born after the release of Young Guns are now legally allowed to drink. That is crazy. How can anyone really appreciate the balance of flavor between the disparate ingredients in a cocktail if they have not yet experienced the balance of power between Emilio Estevez and Lou Diamond Phillips?
I am probably going to piss-off my mom, dad and anybody born before 1982 by saying this, but I am getting old. Tomorrow is my birthday and for some reason, just like last year, I feel a little older than I did on my last birthday.
What did I do that last birthday, you ask? Me and a few friends went to a world famous bar for a private party, personal bartender, cupcakes made with whiskey and a band from Belgium that sang 1920's black American prison songs that flew to the states to play my party. You know, nothing fancy.
This year I plan to up the stakes and drink heavily alone.
That is because I now face the nasty realization that I am only one year away from 30 and as much as I want to believe, I just don't agree that 30 is the new 20. For that matter, I also don't believe that 40 is the new 30 and, no matter how you look at it, it's gross that Ashton Kutcher married Demi Moore.
If I am going to be an ornery, old coot then I'm going to start practicing now.
The problem now that I am older is that I am starting to do things that old people do, like send mass emails. One thing that I cannot stand are emails with more than one fwd: or re: in the subject line.
These are the kinds of emails you get from aunts and old college roommates that start with, "That's right, you heard it on the news" or "It sounded crazy but I thought I'd give it a shot," and they always try to get you to continue sending them around to 10 other friends or relatives.
These emails try to convince you that continuing these mass emails will, through some e-magic, bring you good luck, good fortune, or the chance to be part of something that will make it into the Guinness Book Of World Records. For the record, Guinness does not accept mass emails of their records and that email you just opened is probably a virus.
It is the small things, like seeing all of your favorite mannerisms and jargon become too old school, that make growing old really sad. I like to pretend that I might still relate to today's youth because I skateboard and eat yogurt from a tube but my guess is that I am starting to act like my mom did when I was in high school and she would say "get jiggy wit it," probably because kids today find eating yogurt from a tube to be either too immature or something reserved for old people who eat all their food from tubes.
Why, in my day the only thing that we needed to get ourselves excited was a package of Fun Dip and a can of Jolt. Of course, in those days getting excited only meant that we couldn't fall asleep until 4:30 AM because the combination of sugar and caffeine made it physically impossible.
Oh no, I have already started telling In My Day stories.
Soon enough I will be eating dinner at 4 PM and regaling the youth of tomorrow with crazy stories like how the Mario Brothers took down the Berlin Wall on my front yard.
At least I have a whole year to accomplish everything that I had planned to accomplish in my twenties. I should get to all of that sometime this summer.