2009-01-23 22:53:39 ET|
Reading a friends blog. I forgot I was turning 36 next month. Fuck! 36! Shite!!!! I figured by now in life I'd have at least 2 or 3 kids(*have the fun is the practice), a decent stable job.Throw all that out the window.
When I use to do some serious clubbing with Gage and others. Birthdays were about finding the designated drivers for the night. And whatever happened. Just happened. Alki poured freely from bartender friends.Getting great hugs from friends and strangers(*Hopefully they were hot? Refresh my memory!).Waking up the next moring next to a hottie. Or smiling to yourself, that last night was fucking awesome. Because your crew was with you.
Now it's about. Do I have too work on that day? Will anyone remember? Will mom send some clean socks as a gift?(*Note:As you get older. Clean clothing without holes are a friggin godsend!).Will my lady remember?(*She didn't remember until mid April sometime. Didn't even get a friggin card or hug!!!).Is birthday sex on the agenda?(*Not last year either....I bet, With a puff and wheez, I would ejaculate cobwebs at this point!). Then thoughts turn to vanity. Do I look my age? Is the grey....errr...silver prominent this year? Is the tummy ready for the dicky-do club?(*That's when the tummy sticks out more than the dicky do!).And the list of personal thoughts ramble on.
What I want for my b-day besides more ink is....
A stero for my car.
An accupunture session, and a full massage.
And someone who gives a shit about relationships!