(Who are these kids? And can I legally beat them about the face and neck?) My wife has a special spot in non-Christian heaven waiting for her thanks to the amazing party she threw for my fiftieth birthday. People who have helped make several of my birthdays "totes swag-a-licious", as the kids say. I've been lucky enough over the years to have some very generous friends and family in my life. For me, it really is the thought that counts. stuffed in a plastic grocery bag is fine. I don't even care if it's wrapped all fancy. But even the most jaded person out there has to admit that it puts a bit of sunshine in your life when someone thinks enough of you to get you something for your special day.
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What could possibly take the sting out of this slow decay?ĭon't worry, I'm not going to get all morbidly-obese-ginger on you and pitch a temper tantrum for "PWESENTS!!!" I'm really not very materialistic. And with each revolution around the sun, it just becomes worse and worse. Calling me a "mess" would be a polite way of sparing my feelings. I've got the presence of an older, less kempt Nick Nolte. I'm the middle picture in one of those meth mugshot-progression collages.
Lend me your ears song lyrics full#
(Did I mention how thin I am?)īut then I make the mistake of passing by a mirror, and the horrifying reality of my physical state hits me full force. In my mind, I'm a fourteen year old doofus. How did that happen? Where did the last couple of decades go? Hell, where did April of this year go?
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This week I celebrated my fifty-fourth birthday.