On Saturday, I will be 35 years old. Or as Gus so eloquently put it, “Does that mean you’re going to die soon?”
Assuming all goes well, I like to think I still have a few good years left, but I have noticed some changes in myself lately that do not bode well for the future. I’m not talking about the wiry gray hairs shooting out of my part like rogue strands of Brillo, or the fact that I can now gain five pounds by eating a small plate of crushed ice. Those things are to be expected. I’m talking about the speed at which I am able to process information—which, to put it in scientific terms, is roughly equivalent to that of someone who is legally drunk.
I am living in a DSL world, and my brain has gone back to dial-up. The boys ask me a question, and 45 minutes later a voice in my head says YOU’VE GOT MAIL! By the time my brain types out the answer (with two fingers)—S-u-r-e, y-o-u g-u--y-s c-a-n h-a-v-e a b-r-o-w-n-i-e f-o-r d-e-s-s-e-r-t—the boys are already dabbing the crumbs from their lips and applying to colleges. Or, in Gus’s case, working on a monologue for “The Actor’s Studio.”
I comfort myself, though, that with age, comes wisdom. Even if it takes an hour and a half and a cheese knife to scrape that wisdom from the transom of your mind; it’s there. As a way of sharing my birthday with my faithful readers, I’ve jotted down a few nuggets of wisdom I’ve acquired on various topics.
On Songwriters
No one gives a shit why, how, when, or with whom you wrote this next song. Just shut up and play. I want to go home.
On Craigslist
If you want wrought iron, search for “rod iron.” If you want a dresser, search for “Chester drawers.” If you want an eye-poppingly hideous plaid sofa, look for someone who’s willing to “sacrifice” theirs for $100.
On Missing Children
Children love to step on your feet. Not a day goes by that one of my boys doesn’t inadvertently stomp my toes into a throbbing mess of raw hamburger meat. So! If one of your children ever goes missing, regardless of where you are, remain calm and remove your shoes and socks. The child will come running back in no time. Probably wearing soccer cleats.
On Middle Aged Men Who Ride Recumbent Bicycles
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. You silly!
Assuming all goes well, I like to think I still have a few good years left, but I have noticed some changes in myself lately that do not bode well for the future. I’m not talking about the wiry gray hairs shooting out of my part like rogue strands of Brillo, or the fact that I can now gain five pounds by eating a small plate of crushed ice. Those things are to be expected. I’m talking about the speed at which I am able to process information—which, to put it in scientific terms, is roughly equivalent to that of someone who is legally drunk.
I am living in a DSL world, and my brain has gone back to dial-up. The boys ask me a question, and 45 minutes later a voice in my head says YOU’VE GOT MAIL! By the time my brain types out the answer (with two fingers)—S-u-r-e, y-o-u g-u--y-s c-a-n h-a-v-e a b-r-o-w-n-i-e f-o-r d-e-s-s-e-r-t—the boys are already dabbing the crumbs from their lips and applying to colleges. Or, in Gus’s case, working on a monologue for “The Actor’s Studio.”
I comfort myself, though, that with age, comes wisdom. Even if it takes an hour and a half and a cheese knife to scrape that wisdom from the transom of your mind; it’s there. As a way of sharing my birthday with my faithful readers, I’ve jotted down a few nuggets of wisdom I’ve acquired on various topics.
On Songwriters
No one gives a shit why, how, when, or with whom you wrote this next song. Just shut up and play. I want to go home.
On Craigslist
If you want wrought iron, search for “rod iron.” If you want a dresser, search for “Chester drawers.” If you want an eye-poppingly hideous plaid sofa, look for someone who’s willing to “sacrifice” theirs for $100.
On Missing Children
Children love to step on your feet. Not a day goes by that one of my boys doesn’t inadvertently stomp my toes into a throbbing mess of raw hamburger meat. So! If one of your children ever goes missing, regardless of where you are, remain calm and remove your shoes and socks. The child will come running back in no time. Probably wearing soccer cleats.
On Middle Aged Men Who Ride Recumbent Bicycles
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. You silly!
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