Coming To Terms With Approaching Middle Age

Hi, remember me?  Yeah, it’s been awhile…  OK, so, it’s been a LONG while.  I took all of February off because I am a slacker.  And by slacker, I mean… I’ve actually been working.   Nothing fun mind you.  WORK work.  You know, that stuff you should be doing every day instead of reading this crap.

So, I think I’ve answered my WUMF question.  It’s dead.  It has ceased to be.  It became a hassle to try and cram small nuggets of content into a post at the end of the month just to hit a date.  I know.  First world blogger problems.

But, now we are into March and, of course, it’s time to remind myself of how much closer to death I really am. 

I AM 39!?!?!?!?

Yep…   

As a little experiment I went back and read my past posts on birthdays.  I was a morose sonofabitch, wasn’t I?  I just read the whole post about turning 33 and Madonna and American Pie and WOW! 

OK…  Enough of that.

Here’s what the last six years have taught me.

First of all, 39 is weird.  I mean really weird.  Much more so than 29.  Except for nine and 19, all the nine years are going to be weird but 29 wasn’t that big of a deal.  I had just bought a house and was about to get married…Excuse me while I laugh about that in my head for a bit.    But really, 29 wasn’t horrible.  I wasn’t that cranky yet.  Somewhere into my 30s, I became a cranky old man.  But, now, I feel like I am 29 again. I don’t know why?  Could it be, that I have dropped down to the weight I was at 29?  Could it be that other situations resemble what my life was like when I was 29?  Maybe.  The point is, that I don’t feel bad about being 39, but it’s just so odd to see, “I am almost 40.”

What the hell?  If you are over 40, think about what 39 felt like.  I sure as hell do not have anything together in terms of my shit.  I know I have not grown up.   But I don’t feel like an immature asshole.  I am a perfectly aged one, if anything.    I don’t know if this is what could be considered a mid life crisis.  If it is, 79 is going to REALLY SUCK.

I guess that I’ve sort of reclaimed a bit of myself and don’t get as angry.  I couldn’t care less about the youth of America because, well, they’ll be in my shoes soon enough and then they will see what I’ve seen.  They will also have to deal with how my child acts because karma is a fickle bitch.  When the 20 year olds of today reach 39, my kid will already have been in their shoes and hopefully she will crush that bitch of a stigma.  If not, dumb youth is basically universal.

Another thing about 39 is that I feel like I’m healthier than I was through most of my 30s.   I wasn’t sickly, but my overall well being was poor.  My outlook was poor.  My intake was poor.   So, there is time to fix all of the internal struggles we have with getting older.  Unfortunately, we will still be hampered by some of the physical ones.    I wouldn’t tell you to be proactive and guard yourself against letting your body deteriorate, but I would say that treating your body like a rental car perched at the top of San Francisco’s Lombard St., revving the engine, knowing full well you took the insurance, is probably a bad idea.

Moderation is more than just a cliché, but it also matters what quality your vices are.  I drank a hell of a lot between 21-23 and I felt like crap, afterwards.  Now, I drink maybe once a week, and even though I have tied a few on in the last year, I have recovered quicker and with less effects during the drinking.   However, my body, in its reclaimed state can handle the alcohol a lot better.  My tolerance has gone up even though my weight has gone down.  I’ve also switched to a better grade of alcohol.  Consider how your body feels when it eats McDonald’s vs. a nice home cooked meal.  It’s still the same type of food, but better quality.  Staying away from crap like “Lite” beers and drinking more wine have had an overall positive effect.  Quality and quantity working together it seems.

SO, when it comes time to roll the odometer into my 40s, I’m probably going to get a rude awakening.  Who knows?  Maybe it’s like dusting off a classic car, one with low mileage, and taking it across country.  Shit starts falling apart rather quickly.   However, I have no desire to be afraid of life.  I am taking it as it comes.  Doing the best thing I can to stay here as long as possible, with flare and responsibility.    This body needs to be in motion and we should exercise it and keep it limber.  Get your ass off the couch and move, people.  If you do that, you can do all the other things you’ve missed out on in the last ten years.

What are you waiting for, 49?

WUMF: February 2013 Edition

I was sitting there last night, waiting for my latest Build It video to compress into .WMV and thought, “What the hell am I going to post on Friday?”   Then, I realized, “CRAP!  I missed a WUMF.”  Maybe it’s because February is so short.  Maybe, I’ve just got the dumb.

38 Special

I turned 38 years old this week and as always, Mother Nature gets me the same thing, a blizzard.  Seriously, my streak is like 25-13  Every year, on or within a few days proximity of my birthday, a snow event takes place.  The Blizzard of 93 was like five days after my birthday.

And this year was stupid.   That snowfall was ridiculously overplayed and gone within a couple of hours.  The temperature did more to treat the roads than the local crews in my area did.   My kid even had school cancelled that day.   I think a 2-hr. delay would have been a substantial head start for the trucks to take care of business.   

But, it didn’t matter.  My wife took me to Dino’s in Greensburg for some wings.  I haven’t had Dino’s wings in a long time.  Which… is unfortunate, because I’ve been trying to lose weight.  Still crushed 15 for the hell of it.

40 and a hole

Speaking of losing weight, I’m still hovering at 28 pounds lost since Christmas.  I did have to do an emergency tracheotomy on my belt with my awl, though.  I had to add another hole to the inside because my belt was so loose.  I even managed to reclaim a pair of size 40 jeans in the process.  They are a tad snug, but I’m working on that.  Now that the damn groundhog prognostication is over, the weather can actually get nice and I can get outside and walk some.

Modern Empire

The Minecraft server, where I had been playing and recording videos from, is kind of defunct.  Not really sure how or why.  I was on a few days ago and one of the guys told me it was shutting down.  It was pretty razed by the time I got there.  Someone came through with world edit and sponged a lot of stuff.  I never see any of the admins or mods or even the owners on anymore.  I got directed to a new server where I was given mod status and I can pretty much build at will.   I plan on doing that once I get settled into the Mongo Smash series which aired its first video last week.  

Mongo Smashes

Yep, I done did it.  I posted the first video of me just playing Minecraft, live without a net.  I managed to record about two hours worth of material which will be chopped up into probably six or seven videos to be posted over the next month and a half.    Once EA gets their shit together, I’d like to go get SimCity and try it out.  Hopefully, I can record it.  For now, here’s the first episode of Mongo Smashes Minecraft: The Bad Seed.

Come join the Angry at TheAngryCast

That’s your WUMF, only a week late. 

Happy Birthday A. Wilford Brimley

Today is Wilford Brimley’s 77th Birthday.
The good folks at Liberty Medical hopefully sent him a box. Inside the box was enough dia-beet-us medication to help the 77 year old make it through his birthday cake.

And now, a message from the birthday boy himself.

Happy birthday Wilford. Go eat your cake, because it’s the right thing to do and a tasty way to do it. Maybe, if you're lucky, there's a pool somewhere with alien pods in it that can cure your dia-beet-us.  Until then, stick with the box.

Walton's Moving Castle

Yesterday was my daughter’s fourth birthday. Because she was born right after Independence Day we find ourselves double planning her birthday; one for the weekend, which usually involves a cookout of some sort and one for her actual birth date.

This year, her birthday fell on a Tuesday, so we asked her what she wanted for dinner on her birthday. She said pancakes. Funny kid. I was fine with this and asked if she wanted to go to Bob Evans. She said she wanted to go to the ‘other’ pancake place. At first, I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. She doesn’t exactly have all the skills of reading under her belt, but she can identify a place by the signage. For instance, she calls McDonald’s, Old McDonald’s and Dairy Queen, Women’s. So, when she says the ‘Other Pancake Place’ she can only mean IHOP.

We’ve only taken her to IHOP three times in her life, but it has made an impression on her. In fact, we only get to go maybe once a year because it’s on our way to the beach. We usually stop off at one around Fredericksburg, VA, off of I-95. The closest IHOP to our house is 45 minutes away in Uniontown or Robinson Township.

My wife and I have been lobbying for one to be put in Irwin for years. They bulldozed a local restaurant/bar/six pack shop called Angelo’s a few years back and while we hoped against hope for an IHOP, they built a Howard Hanna office, instead. This was right after the housing bubble had collapsed and baffled me.

Still, I was up for driving 45 minutes for some Butter Pecan syrup and after all, it was my kid’s birthday. Why not?

Now, my wife asked me if I knew how to get to the one in Uniontown. I said, “Sure, it’s right next to Walmart.” Growing up, I had gone to that shopping plaza off of Mcclellandtown Rd. a number of times. There was an Italian Oven right off the highway and across from it was Cherry Tree Square and the Walmart. Of course, I hadn’t been there in about 20 years but still, how hard is it to remember how to get there? And besides, it’s Walmart. Can’t be hard to find.

After driving 45 minutes, I finally reached the shopping plaza and could not find Walmart. It was baffling to me. I could already see the steam rising off my wife’s ears because we have been under the gun to get the house in order for the cook out party, this Saturday. Wasting an evening, driving around Fayette Nam was not her idea of fun, especially with the ninjas out there sneaking around.

I decided to stop into Kmart and ask where the IHOP was. I felt bad asking a Kmart employee where the Walmart was. She said, go back out here, make a right, go up and make another right. I said, “Right by the Walmart.” She said, “Yes.”

See, I knew it was there.

After a couple of wrong turns and a detour around the Uniontown Mall parking lot, we finally found Walmart. It looked nothing like I remembered. Granted, my memory isn’t what it used to be, but honestly, how hard is it to find a Walmart in Fayette County. There should be huge neon signs with spot lights and wacky waving arm inflatable tube men pointing the way. It’s like Mecca. Yet, this store sat out in a field like Beaver Stadium at Penn State’s Campus. Imagine a huge stadium rising out of a cow field where you literally walk off of the pasture and onto the concrete steps. Same thing here. It was like Field of Rollbacks. If you build it and sell cheap Chinese manufactured products, they will come.

My wife was all, “See, you had no idea where it was.”

I told her, “It was right next to the Walmart, like I said.”

“But you didn’t know where the Walmart was.” She shouted back.

“Honestly, it was not here last time I came up here. They must have moved it.”

I know how dumb that sounded but honestly, they have done that. The Greensburg Walmart got torn down years ago and they moved it further down Route 30 East. In its place they put a Sam’s Club. It was possible.

Once we got inside, I asked the server if I was nuts. Turns out, they moved the Walmart about a year ago, according to our server. “See! I’m not nuts. They moved it. How the hell could I have known that? It just happened.”

In any case, I got my Butter Pecan syrup, my kid got her pancakes and she ate for free because it was Tuesday because she was under 12 and it was between 4-8pm. And, yes, they did move the Walmart. Huzzah!

I'll Never Cook Again

This declaration was made after my daughter’s birthday party this past weekend.

It’s not that I cook, now. I know. And even if I did I could hear the naysayers… saying nay…

- nay saying…

- naying?

- bitching at me and my wife for not cooking four only child’s birthday. Well, nay away. Here’s why it was a blessing to not have to cook.

For the past three years we have been having cookouts for my kid’s birthday. It’s the day after Independence Day which usually means it doubles as the official holiday cookout or gets moved to a nearby weekend to avoid the work week. Usually, we do the usual grilling fare, and I spend four hours grilling up food as well as taking care of things like wayward children, filling up coolers, etc. Normally, my wife and I do not get to enjoy the party.

This year was especially daunting as we tried to offset the scheduling conflicts of family and friends by moving it to the week after the fourth. That gave us extra time to clean, shop, etc. Still, we both looked at each other and wanted to cry.

We’ve been having issues with our pool. It’s one of those Intex brands one that I inherited from my brother. He bought a new pool and I got that one. The pump/filter that comes with it couldn’t cycle a 50 gallon fish tank properly. The pump barely sucks enough water to get a flow going and the paper filter cartridge suffers from poor design issues as it never fits right, leading to the pump not working properly. So, I had been in the market for a better pump since last year.

One of my old teachers from high school happened to have a Hayward DE pump and filter. It was a couple years old and hadn’t been used for a year. I bought it for $200 along with various parts and fittings over Memorial Day. With a vacation at the beginning of June we didn’t get it set up until the middle of the month. Now, I must say that because I’m an idiot and didn’t have a proper cover, the pool remained exposed to the elements all fall and winter resulting in lots of leaves, bugs and dirt residing in it.

Trying to clean a 16 ft. pool with even a more powerful than needed pump/filter is going to be hard. If I would have just resigned myself to draining and refilling the pool, I would have saved myself two weekends of screwing around with trying to keep the pump working.

Needless to say, I finally got it up and running, properly, on the Fourth of July weekend. That left me with a week to get everything else done. That meant yard needed cut, house needed cleaned and food needed to be bought. It was just too much for us to handle.

My wife made the executive decision at the beginning of the month to just get the party catered. Is that lazy of us? I say no. Is that frivolous of us to spend the money? I say no. Here’s why.

In the scheme of things we would have ended up paying the same amount for all of the food and then cooking it ourselves. Because we were cooking it, we would have lost time that we so desperately needed to run around and pick up supplies, the cake, the balloons, and anything else needed. We’d also find ourselves taking longer to eat as you can only prepare so much food ahead of time, leading to later meal times and less time for enjoying the other stuff.

We went with a local place called Skis and Nick’s. I’ve had their food before and it’s pretty good. We ordered one of their predefined menus which included batter dipped chicken, penne noodles and sauce, a potato, a vegetable, a deli tray, a garden salad, a fruit salad, rolls, buns, and relish tray. At $9.25 + tax, per person it might sound like a lot. However, we also got all of the napkins, plates, utensils, condiments and carryout containers to go with it. Not to mention, they included the use of a hot box to keep the hot items hot. Now, all I had to do was go pick it all up, uncover it and serve.

By the way, the food was delicious. We had leftovers which was great because we were dead tired yesterday and didn’t want to have to worry about dinner. And, we got to visit, eat and enjoy the party, for once. Like I said, we’ll never cook again for parties.

The Priceless One

I am the master planner. I can plan for any occasion whether it be a holiday, a vacation, or a business trip. I just can't seem to follow through ahead of time and be ready when said event occurs. Take for instance last Fourth of July. My wife was 9 months pregnant and a scheduled caesarean section would bring our daughter into the world on the 5th. I've had 9 months to plan everything in order to be ready for her birth. Get the house ready, get the nursery ready, get me ready for that little one to come into our lives. So, as the master planner that I am, why do you think I was scrubbing walls and cleaning the house on the Fourth of July? Good Question. I don't know the answer. I wish I did. A lot of things got left by the way side after she was born. I never cleaned out the gutters. I didn't get finished ridding the yard of leaves. Hell, Christmas decorations started going up on the first of December and were finally done by Christmas Eve. My wife and I devoted a lot of our time to the baby and let everything else get away from us.

This year I made the decision to be ready if it killed me. We had it all planned out. It's not like it was going to sneak up on us. The 5th of July happens the same time every year. We began planning in April. We knew it was a Saturday. I made arrangements to be off most of that week so that I could finish up last minute details. With a month or so left to go we sprang into action. Each weekend was our optimal time to get things done so we had the little one shipped off to babysitters while we worked. How sad is that? After a year of being parents and we have people baby-sit for us so we can work? We don't even get to enjoy the freedom of not having to be parents for that little bit of time. I made the declaration and probably will not be able to follow through with it but I made it anyway. After this we are taking it easy. Last summer flew by as we were sequestered into the house to take care of a newborn. This year, at least the second half of the summer will be there for us to enjoy. As of the time of this blog post, we have yet to enjoy anything but a baby who can walk and be absolutely adorable. We also just stare at the pile of presents and the disastrous state of the house and wonder if we'll be ready for the holidays. It's a vicious cycle.

Back to strategy. We went to the party planning store and picked out balloons, themed cake plates, themed napkins, and overall color scheme. With three weeks left to go we made a trip to the big store that is the most evil place on Earth and got all our plastic and plates for the rest of the food and finalized our menu. The only thing that was taking forever was my grill since it was loud and clangy and the only time I had to assemble it was when the baby was sleeping and that was not the best time to be making noise. With two weeks left to go we ordered the cake and made arrangements to have tables and chairs. We didn't know the total amount of guests because the RSVP date was the 1st of July. We initially sent invitations for a total of 50 people. Yes, we are nuts. By the end of June we had 10 people for sure. My wife, fearing that we would be stuck with a lot of food told me to just start inviting people. Did I mention we are nuts. As of the 1st, we had 30 people and more to come. With one week to go before the party we began to panic. The last count was 46 people and now we were afraid that we were going to run out of food. Is a full keg too much? Should we get a full and a half just in case? When do we start setting up everything? Will this rain let up? Seriously, it rained everyday that week except for one day which I used to cut the grass.

It appeared that no matter how much we planned ahead of time a lot of things couldn't be done until the last minute. I had no real storage areas for all the tables, so they couldn't be picked up until that Friday and then had to sit in the garage up against the door. That was a real chore. We secured six 8' tables and 31 chairs. I was afraid that the chairs would be wooden and not very comfortable so I made a suggestion to people to bring some of their own. That way, I didn't have to get as many from the church. After all, I was trying to make this as simple as possible in order to maximize my time of assembly. All tables and chairs had to wait until Saturday morning because of the poor weather. Also, I borrowed a tent from my parents which required four people to assemble and they offered to show up early to help.

My father in law was so worried that if we waited until Saturday to pick up the beer that it would be nothing but foam. It needs to sit for 24 hours. I wasn't about to leave it outside in a tub of ice, only to keep icing it down or find it stolen by some lucky passerby. I couldn't keep it in any of my fridges. If I left it in a tub of ice in my garage it would have to still be moved and sloshed around. I opted for taking my chances with the foam. Balloons couldn't be picked up till the day of the party, neither could the cake. I also had to assemble the backyard on the premise that it would stop raining on Friday. Again, every huge task had to be put off until the last minute.

Saturday morning played out like this. Woke up and had breakfast. With my friend in tow, we went to the distributor and grabbed the keg. Came back and unloaded the keg in the backyard, iced down. Went to the party store to get the flowers. Went to the bakery to get the cake. Began setting up tables and chairs. Got the tent set up and began icing down water and pop (soda for you non Mid Atlantians.) By now it was 3:00 PM and time for guests to show up. I quickly changed and greeted people as they came. My wife and her mother readied all the non grilling food while I entertained and pointed people in the directions of food, drink, and card table. At 4:30 PM, I began grilling up hot dogs and kielbasa. We ate, and proceeded to sing and open presents. By 8:00 people had their fill but still held out for a mini fireworks display at dusk. After everyone left around 9:30, the cleanup began. Before my parents left, the tent was disassembled and back in the garage. My wife and her mother cleaned inside, my friend and I worked outside, and my father in law watched the baby. All 6 tables and 31 chairs were back in the garage before 11:00 PM. I had a shower, had a quick snack, and off to bed.

Come Sunday, we still had to return all the chairs and tables, which we did by 2:00 PM. We then took the remainder of the keg to a friend's house and tried to get rid of it to no avail. I came to terms with the fact that I would have to give back half a keg but didn't care. The tables were gone, my house was empty, and life could return to normal.....right? My poor friend who came in from out of town on vacation only to work his ass off for me. He may never come back.

In the end, the party was successful in that it never rained, we had tons of food, and everyone had a good time. My back will differ with this assessment as will my feet. I learned a few things along the way. Yeah, a keg will foam up for a few hours after it is put into place, but a pitcher does nicely to alleviate the problem. Our church is super nice and super accommodating, I'm glad we picked them. Who ever writes the instruction manuals for grills should be shot....no worse, tortured following instructions with as much ambiguity as the manuals they had written. I suck at horseshoes. And who needs a MasterCard commercial.

Half Barrel of beer for party - $82.00
2 layer cake with strawberry filling that serves 50 for party - $50.00
Balloons, decorations, napkins, table linens, and banners for party - $70.00
Six 8' tables and 31 chairs for party - $0.00

Seeing this face as she dives into her smash cake...

Priceless!

But next year, we're going to Chuck E. Cheese. I'm still tired.

Mongo is 33 and cranky. Grrr Arrgh!

All right, let's get this over with for another year. It's my birthday. I am 33 years old, today, March 6th. At what age do we stop caring about our birthday? At what age do we hope others will, too? I didn't used to be like this. I used to be an attention starved, ham it up, spotlight seeking, dork. Now, I would rather stay home, have a piece of cake and just hope that midnight comes quickly. I mean, shouldn't I be happy that I have survived another year? I shouldn't complain because there are people in this world who didn't make it to my age who would have been quick to trade me places if given the chance. I guess it all comes down to my getting crankier in my years. I used to keep a smooth outlook. I used to see the world through Zen colored glasses. Now, I just want to crawl into a cave and hide. My wife asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday. I said nothing special. I didn't want a huge dinner with all of my family around. It's not that I don't like to visit with family; it's just that I'm lazy and usually the house is wrecked from Tornado Bailey. I don't mind doing a Birthday Dinner out at a restaurant, but I hate to put everyone out of their way driving to meet us. Usually, I like to just go to dinner with my wife at Dave & Busters and then go spend an hour in the arcade. What am I, 33 or 13? I'm a big kid, what can I say? Still, for the life of me I can't believe that I've gotten this cranky at such a young age. I was an actor in college, a regular life of the party on campus, and now I hate to answer the phone or the door for anyone. Somewhere it all went horribly wrong and I think I know where.

I was working at a hotel as a banquet captain around the turn of the century. It sounds like I'm ancient. OK, fine. It was back in 2000. A local high school was setting up for their prom and I had become annoyed with the teeny boppers running around. I was used to my routine working in the hotel. If I set up a room during the day, I would grab the radio from the office and tune it into 102.5FM, the local classic rock station. It would make the time go faster and I felt that I was more productive with the music in the background. It also drowned out the phone in the office which usually disrupted my work in favor of going to another part of the hotel to fix something. This particular day, I was already fed up with the youth of America being....well, youthful. Did my generation act like that when we were in high school? I know I found it a requirement to make an ass out of myself in public, but I hope I at least was being intelligent and not worried about petty issues. Regardless, Don McLean started playing on the radio. If I have to even tell you what song it was, you should stop reading now. Go away. I will seriously turn this place into the Wild Bunch.

Get out!

Mongo feel better, now.

Anyway, so, the classic anthem of my childhood begins playing on the radio and these girls start singing along word for word. I didn't think much of it until the end of the first stanza when they all got quiet. After the first chorus, they all start up again, singing away like they wrote the damn thing. Then again, after the next chorus, they all got quiet again, looking at each other like, "What the hell? This isn't how it goes." I stopped in my tracks looked at them all and said, "YOU DON'T KNOW THE NEXT VERSE, DO YOU?" They looked at me with a lost look in their eyes. I mumbled something along the lines of, "Damn kids!" and walked off, continuing my work.

You see, in 2000, Madonna released a version of "American Pie" on her Music album. Keeping up with ADD addled youth culture, the lyrics were truncated to accommodate a mere four and a half minute version whereas the original LP has it at eight and a half minutes. However, these kids accepted Madonna's version as the original and thought that the original version was a remake. This is what irks me about the youth of today. I admit I've done it, too. I mistook Manfred Mann's version of "Blinded By the Light" as an original until I heard Springsteen singing it. I was amazed. How did I get this far believing that? But still, both of these versions were released in the 70's. While, Mann's version is better known even though Springsteen is the bigger artist, Don McLean is considered iconic like.....well, like American Pie. Yet, kids with their texting and 'meh' and n00b' and iPods have no appreciation let alone awareness of anything pre Britney Spears...and I don't mean, Britney "Oops I forgot my panties, again" Spears, I mean Britney "I'm too young to act this slutty in a school girl outfit....but with panties" Spears. They seem to think that life didn't exist before the Xbox. Well, guess what, you whipper snappers? You're going to support me when I get old, so get a damn job.

This lack of awareness by a bunch of high schoolers isn't the only instance that makes me nuts. Just recently on television, during the much needed writer's strike, reality TV finally took over. We were bombarded by hordes of competing Dad's and liars strapped to polygraphs and of course, American Idol wannabe Dance Wars: Bruno vs. Carrie Ann. The show, which pitted two judges from Dancing With the Stars against each other in a game of "You Got Served," offered up six weeks of dreck with one stand out dumb ass, Taylor Swift. She appeared during Country Week where both teams offered up dance numbers to what else......remakes of classic songs. Team Bruno performed "Life is a Highway" and Team Carrie Ann performed "These Boots are Made For Walking." When asked what she thought of the performances, Taylor said she liked "Life is a Highway," because she loves Rascal Flatts. I wanted to throw the set through the wall. If anything, the performance was second rate. Why they (TV) consistently try turning rock songs into a Broadway show is beyond me? These guys butchered the spirit of the song. More importantly, it wasn't a Rascal Flatts song! Hello, Tom Cochrane......from Red Rider...1992...oh wait, you were listening to Barney at that age, never mind. Oddly enough, she toured with Rascal Flatts so, chalk it up to shameless plug, I guess.

My point is that you may want to claw your own eyes out because some twenty something thinks Christina Aguilera did a great cover of All Saints' "Lady Marmalade." I know. I know. When that happened I wanted to shoot myself because this girl had never even heard of Patti Labelle. You may even want to hunt down those two coeds who got banned from Southwest Airlines and tell them that it's not because they were, "too pretty" but because the FAA is afraid their already oxygen deprived brains wouldn't pressurize correctly and would cause them to deflate on a later flights. Face it girls, you aren't that pretty and while we can take steps to look better looking, you can't fix stupid. What you can't do is stop the aging process. So, perhaps I should take the hint and try to be more positive about my age. I should see it as a chance to impart the wisdom I have gained in this life onto my daughter and hope that she breaks the trend of these clueless kids. I'm still going to get cranky when I see some kid wearing sweatpants with the words pink written across the ass. If my daughter does that, I'll ground her for life. Still, as I make my way through another March 6th, I am glad that I am in fairly good health and that I have people who want to and are willing to recognize my birthday. As 12:01 appears on the clock, signifying March 7th's arrival, perhaps this good ole boy will drink some whiskey or rye, singing, "This won't be the day that I die."