Birthdays and whatnot

So two weeks ago, I turned 30. In the weeks leading up to my birthday, a lot of people exclaimed "Say goodbye to your twennnnnnnntiessssss!" in a sing-songy voice while waggling their eyebrows at me. I mean, honestly, I'm pretty sure I left my twenties behind when I had a kid at 25. So I would just laugh along with them, maybe throwing in an "OOHHH UH OH!!!" here or there.

So in all reality, I don't really feel that much older. I'm sure most women will hate me for saying this, but, I haven't really aged since I was 14. I have grown much MUCH wiser, (not really) but looks wise, I still got it goin' on.

It's like staring into the past, present, AND the future!

On that note, here's a list of things, besides my age, that prove I am getting older:

My porch lurking
When Mo and I are schlumping on the couch watching a movie at night with our door open, enjoying the cool breeze wafting over our glistening rolls poking out from under our clothing, (how's THAT for imagery, huh?) and we hear some kind of ruckus happening outside, we'll peel ourselves up from the couch, shuffle over onto the the porch, and sit there staring menacingly at whoever has the balls to raise their voice while walking down the street. We do this for two reasons: to monitor any possible foul play in the neighborhood, and to witness any possible drama going down.Ten years ago? I would jump up in hopes something cool and exciting was happening outside my door and I'd want to participate. Now, we just stand there and attempt to intimidate. We are two years away from "GIT OFF MY LAWN".

Seriously. Put a bright red wig on him and he looks like my twin.

I leave parties at 11pm
When I was planning my big nerdy thirty party, I decided to open the evening with some private room karaoke, and end it at a bowling alley/lounge. Most young people wouldn't even be thinking about getting ready for a night out until at least 9pm.

Not me.

I started getting ready at 3, and I was at Voicebox at 5pm SHARP. Let me just repeat that, so that it really sinks in: I STARTED MY PARTY AT 5PM. That is just only slightly worse than hitting Sweet Tomatoes at 4pm for the early bird special.

Leading in to:

Bedtime
I turn into a pumpkin at 11pm. Oh, I've tried staying up until all hours of the morning like I used to, but at this point, I don't even know what 3am looks like anymore, unless it's 3am and my 5 year old is crawling into bed with me, asking to watch television and complaining his legs hurt. Also, the other night I caught myself thinking: "I should bring my water bottle to bed. Mmm, nah. I will just be getting up all night to pee." I SAID THAT, YOU GUYS.

What in the fu.....

My opinion of young people
I'm not saying I'm that old crotchety person scowling at little kids just yet. I'm talking about my general opinion and attitude towards people in the age range of 16-25. I have reached the point where I want to smile knowingly when they talk to me about inane, shallow shit and say something wise like: "Oh my child, you have much to learn." I'm that annoying "just you wait" adult. I just want to impart all my wisdom upon these poor innocent souls, even though realistically I was JUST THERE.

My general condition after practice
Now, I have never been the athletic type. I didn't play sports in high school. BUT, I did skateboard, and I skated a LOT. Street, vert, anything I could put my wheels on. As a 16 year old, I could skate for 6 hours, drink a slurpee, and spryly jump up to skate some more. And barely feel anything in the morning other than a shade of soreness in my thighs.

Not so much now.

I go to a 2 hour practice, even if it's just endurance and I'm not getting bashed around, and I feel like I was hit by a freight train almost immediately. The next morning, I'm wondering who the fuck picked me up during REM sleep and proceeded to throw me around my room. I can barely walk the next day. Plus I'm so dehydrated my skin starts peeling off. My youthful days of athleticism are gone, my friends. All that's left is an empty, panting shell.

Must... remember... to drink... more... water....

New tattoo time!

Just a quick blurb before I head to work:

We finally finished the "Alice" piece we started over a year ago. If you like this work, it was done by none other than the beautiful and talented Betty Marie. If you like what she does, head over to www.steadybettytattoo.com and hit her up. She's crazy talented and this tattoo is a masterpiece, in my opinion. A brilliant, brilliant masterpiece. But that may be just because it's on me.

Things that piss me off

Searching for my glasses.
I'll be the first one to admit, I am not an organized person. For some damn reason, my brain refuses to remind me to put stuff in the same place every time. ESPECIALLY SHIT I NEED TO SEE TO FIND. Hence, the pickle I put myself in when I have no contacts in and I can't see an inch in front of my face. For those who are blessed with good eyesight, guh'head and blur your eyesight on purpose, to where you can no longer distinguish shapes. Now look for something you really need. YOU ARE NOW FEELING A FRACTION OF MY FRUSTRATION.

"I know they are here somewhere"

Well written, well thought out, hilariously clever, and consistent blogs
Only because they are more well written, more thought out, and more hilariously clever than mine. Also, they post regularly instead of just during a full moon. And truth be told, I love funny blogs, I just feel like less of a writer after I read them.

This is essentially my face when I read funnier blogs than mine.

Incidentally, this image is from one of the funniest blogs of all time and I 

follow it religiously. Check out www.booksofadam.com

Carbs

Oh, carbs, you nasty little minx, you. I hate you, I really do. NO. I TAKE IT BACK, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! Carbs make me fat. Carbs slow my athletic performance down. Carbs make my brain fuzzier than it should be. Eating carbs for me is like how I imagine a bad one night stand with Zak Bagins would be: momentary euphoria and bliss, followed by intense feelings of regret, remorse, and self loathing. I fervently wish I could say "I had such a bad day, I can't wait to go home and eat celery and swiss chard to just MELT my stress away." Instead I come home and inhale an entire pizza like I've never had one before.  

I swear this is the last Books of Adam image I am going to use.

The underwear I'm wearing at this moment

Every time I stand up, I get a wedgie. I pull it out, do my bizness, and sit down, only to repeat the process again. And yet, when I pull those undies out of the dryer, do I think to myself: "Nope, I will never put on the wedgie panties again." or do I think: "Maybe THIS time I won't have any problems."? I never claimed to be the smartest person on the block.

I understand, my brethren.

Victory rolls

I get lots of compliments on my victory rolls when I wear them out in public. People love them. What they don't know is the fucking commitment it takes for me to get them that way. It's about 45 minutes per roll of screaming, frustrated grunting, rolling and unrolling, and pieces of hair sticking to my fingers when I FINALLY get it and pulling the whole damn thing apart. I am not good at victory rolls, you guys. When you see me with the finished product on my head, you are looking at someone missing a piece of their sanity.

Expectation                                 Reality

People who don't find sarcasm very funny

Get over yourself.

Whatever predator is out there eating my chickens.

Fucking stop already. This isn't KFC. I know circle of life and all that shit but if I catch you sneaking up on my chickens again.....

Not ending my blogs the way I want

Speaking of funny and well written blogs, (this is not one) how do people end blogs like this? I sat here for six minutes trying to think of the perfect way to tie this all together in a neat little concluding package, but I'm drawing a blank. So instead, I will leave you with this picture that really confused me when I googled "funny".