Today I am a Man

A thirty year old man, to be exact. This birthday came on like a northern bullet and is leaving like a fart in an elevator. My boss made me biscuits and gravy, potato casserole, and other such accoutrements to make me very, very sleepy this afternoon. I have no idea what the fiancee has planned for tonight, but I predict there might be several cocktails and some of that "fooling around," or whatever the kids call it nowadays, involved.

In other news, after forcing the fiancee to watch the movie I own with the least amount of gunfire (if you can guess it before you click on the link, good for you.), she has agreed to get a bulldog. Excellent. I have a name picked out. Who would be afraid of a portly gentleman walking a black bulldog named Ichabod down an unlit street? I know I wouldn't. I'd be more afraid that he would try to make me watch another movie and then try to convert me to his way of thinking. Ironically, I received that movie from my brother for my birthday one year long, long ago. It makes a wonderful coaster or something to watch after smoking massive quantities of marijuana. Wait a minute... nah, it just makes a good coaster.

Speaking of my family, we are getting together Saturday night at an authentic German restaurant situated 10 miles from nowhere. Because my Father's birthday is four days after mine, we have taken to combining the celebrations to whatever weekend they both fall closest too. We went to the same place last year, and I predict that my brother and I will do the same thing, that is, ponder the mysteries of what hair care products our illustrious governor uses to keep that political shine on his helmet coiffure.

But, until then, I depart from work, wiser, wistful, and in dire need of a cappuccino, a New York Times crossword, and an hour of 'me' time in the bathroom. For the curious, I'm the guy on the right, and in the past year have become less puffy than I am in that pic. I swear, I am almost cuddly now.