I crawled out of bed this morning feeling every single one of my 42 years. A viscous reminder that I’m not 24 years old after all.
Some realizations hit me in the face like a June Bug hitting the windshield on a warm May evening (CRACK!).
That reminds me, why the hell are they called June Bugs when they are predominately plentiful in May? Another consequence of global warming? Maybe I should use that thing Al Gore invented and send him an email of inquiry.
I was lying in bed last night and thinking about life as I usually do when I came to some frightening conclusions as a result of recent behaviors. I’m getting old and the following progression is a clear sign of that fact (or is it a regression, you be the judge).
A short timeline of birthday events in the past:
The First Decade
- Birthdays consisted of cake, lots of relatives and tons of presents
- The first two spent shittin’ myself and probably crying a lot
- The following 8, enjoying good times
The Second Decade
- The first few spent with more friends and less relatives and a good amount of presents
- The next couple spent with a few friends and barely a relative
- 16, sneaking beers and a cigarette or three until I turned green and puked, I was a man after all
- 17, stoned and drunk. Still able to puke like a man
- 18, registered for the draft and drunk as a MF’er puking all over the place and one massive hangover that I swear lasted for a week
- 19, drunk somewhere, I don’t really remember and I may have shit myself
- 20 in line with 19
The Third Decade
- 21 through 29 are a blur and probably resulted in some drunk ass bullshit lasting at least a week long
- 30 was a huge blow-out and a Jack Daniels induced black out and as it turns out, someone shit in mouth when I was passed out. I couldn’t get that taste out of my mouth for a week! Happy Birthday asshole!
The Fourth Decade
- 31-37 spent at a bar sucking up free drinks. Finally, the present’s were back in style in the form of shots. I can also testify to the fact that shots, downed in quantity and in a short period of time will lead to your sphincter messaging your uvula as you cry BUICK!
- 38-41 enjoying a few beers at home with an occasional headache the next morning worrying that I may shit myself at any moment.
- 42, no alcohol and enjoying a cake with loved ones. Finally, the quality of the celebration has reached a level of respectability. Who knew?
Guess what’s next, and yes these are the things I think about, not only do I now have a finger up my ass yearly to probe around, the next decade will yield an additional violation.
You know, once you leave your mother’s tit, it’s a constant battle to survive. Your basically fucked! To top it off, in my infinite wisdom, I left early like a moron!
As soon as you cash that first paycheck, let the ass fucking begin. The government has been fucking me since I can remember. A heartfelt thank you to my representatives in Washington for providing me the services that are on par with the money you have been stealing from me for over 25 years! You fuckers!
Just as I get used to be violated, along comes a finger once a year to probe around and see what it can find. I’ve already been informed that yet another device with be implemented soon. Apparently, the finger really only checks for one thing and now they need a camera to take a look around.
I think the medical field is in cahoots with the government. Their not looking for polyps, those greedy bastards are looking for hidden money and charging me for it. WTF!
In summation, all this fucking around is making me thirsty!
Have a wonderful day and smile like you know something others don’t!