39 years of this shit, and I still don't have no goddamn Bentley.
Where is that shit? I'm 39. THIRTY NINE. Christ was dead and resurrected by this age and me? Today I was looking at D&D dice online, because it would be funny to get some. THIRTY NINE.
I was thinking about renting Heavy Metal the movie. THIRTY NINE.
I couldn't read my notes from a meeting at work, because I had drawn pictures all over them. THIRTY NINE.
I'm staying up late because I'll all like... no one tells BABY when he's going to bed. THIRTY NINE.
Thirty nine.
That's like fifty.
I was thinking about renting Heavy Metal the movie. THIRTY NINE.
I couldn't read my notes from a meeting at work, because I had drawn pictures all over them. THIRTY NINE.
I'm staying up late because I'll all like... no one tells BABY when he's going to bed. THIRTY NINE.
Thirty nine.
That's like fifty.
Labels: Weltschmerz
posted by Greg Mills at 12:40 AM
7 Comments:
On the bright side, it's Friday the 13th and no one has crashed your Bentley, because you don't have one.
at least you can still claim you're in your 30's...
Happy birthday, dude!
Marion -- I knew you'd be able find some sense in all this.
Spanish -- My thirties were pretty awesome so far, all told
Stephanie -- Thanks doll!
I'm looking down the gun barrel of 40 later this year.
Fortunately, I got a great new gig that makes me feel fulfilled just under the gun.
Whew!
You're doing okay pal, don't sweat it.
and Happy Father's Day!
No, at 50 you stop asking about the Bentley. Although those little motorized carts start to intrigue.
Yup, it's Jazzy scooter from here on out. Happy belated birthday.
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