Turning Thirty

So I’m turning thirty this year.

I feel like this should be some milestone or something, like most people do when they turn thirty. But, really, I just feel kind of bland, like I ate too much fast food and now I have to sit around and attempt to digest it for a while. It’s a weird, lethargic feeling. Not like I’m dangling from a biological clock, or that my whole life has meant pretty much fuck-all up to this point and I need to do something very important very quickly. I guess it’s more of a growing up…or, at least, an attempt to stop living the way I am now.

For example- as I type, my roommates are watching Mama’s Family. I’m a 29-year-old administrative assistant with no girlfriend, no life, and my roommates are watching Mama’s Family. Are you hearing what I’m screaming?

But, I suppose my alarming sense of emptiness is better than my roommate’s reaction to turning thirty, which was to cry for a year and a half. This seems to be a standard response in women…thirty seems to run deeper in them than in us man-types. Most women I know can’t say the word “thirty.” They can say twenty-nine pretty easily. And even will mumble “thirty-one” if they have to. But thirty? Uh-huh. Might as well try to eat a church.

So this is something of a feeble attempt to at least leave some sort of record of my existence. Or, at least, give me something to do other than watch Mama’s Family. I mean, really, did anyone watch Mama’s Family? I just assumed they made it simply to cheaply fill in that floating hour between the news and prime time TV. Of course, this only works in the Eastern Time Zone, where I spent my formative years. Now that I’m living on Central Time, and prime time begins at 7pm, there doesn’t seem to be any need to anyone to even consider airing Mama’s Goddam Family. At least show some obscure form of nonsense that I’ll never see again, like We’ve Got It Maid, or Too Close for Comfort. Then I’ll at least have a funny story to tell the five people who remember We’ve Got It Maid (and believe me, I know them all).

So, if you’ve nothing better to do, please, enjoy my ramblings. If nothing else, you’re going to learn a whole lot of nonsense with which to impress your friends:

YOU: Hey, man, remember Out of This World? Where the girl was part alien and her dad talked to her through a little plastic pyramid?
YOUR FRIENDS: Have you been reading that stupid guy’s blog again?
YOU: What’s your favorite Choose Your Own Adventure book?
YOUR FRIENDS: We hate you.

Aw yeah, good times…good times…

I know the best thing would’ve been to start this right when my last birthday hit, so I could count down an entire year. Or at least yesterday, so it would’ve been exactly six months to my thirtieth (October 22nd, for the calendar-deficient). But, this is me, so you get a one hundred and eight-two day countdown. Get ready.