The title
So - I suppose you're wondering why in the hell I named this Blog "I'll grow old - but I won't grow up", aren't you? Well, it's like this...
In exactly 18 days from this very moment, I will officially turn 40.
AAAAAHHHH!
Actually, it's not as scary as it could be. I mean, I've already lived a lot longer than a lot of people, and that doesn't count all of the rock stars who've drowned in pools of their own vomit. So turning 40 really doesn't frighten me as much as it makes me think - by God, where does time go? It seems like it was not too long ago that I was a smart-ass kid who spent his days listening to "Mr. Roboto" and thinking I was king of the world because I had $5 in my pocket, and that meant I had money for a Super Slurpee and some chili-cheese nachos from 7-11. The world was my oyster - no mortgage, no job, no gray hair.
So I've had to grow old. God says so. But who says I have to GROW UP? I think I'll pull the Peter Pan trick and Just Say No.
I've got my health (for the most part - we won't discuss that skin cancer crap, now will we?), I've got a lovely bride and a reasonably nice teenage daughter (she's 17 - all you parents of teenaged daughters will understand, right?), a nice home, a black cat that likes to howl at me until I give him treats, a fire red convertible that plays loud rock & roll whenever I want, and I've still got a bit of a sense of humor to me. Oh, sure - I can't run the 100 yard dash in 11 seconds, but I never was able to do so when I was 20, so I can't beat myself up over that.
So Happy Birthday to me, soon. We'll see how it goes, won't we?
Until then...
In exactly 18 days from this very moment, I will officially turn 40.
AAAAAHHHH!
Actually, it's not as scary as it could be. I mean, I've already lived a lot longer than a lot of people, and that doesn't count all of the rock stars who've drowned in pools of their own vomit. So turning 40 really doesn't frighten me as much as it makes me think - by God, where does time go? It seems like it was not too long ago that I was a smart-ass kid who spent his days listening to "Mr. Roboto" and thinking I was king of the world because I had $5 in my pocket, and that meant I had money for a Super Slurpee and some chili-cheese nachos from 7-11. The world was my oyster - no mortgage, no job, no gray hair.
So I've had to grow old. God says so. But who says I have to GROW UP? I think I'll pull the Peter Pan trick and Just Say No.
I've got my health (for the most part - we won't discuss that skin cancer crap, now will we?), I've got a lovely bride and a reasonably nice teenage daughter (she's 17 - all you parents of teenaged daughters will understand, right?), a nice home, a black cat that likes to howl at me until I give him treats, a fire red convertible that plays loud rock & roll whenever I want, and I've still got a bit of a sense of humor to me. Oh, sure - I can't run the 100 yard dash in 11 seconds, but I never was able to do so when I was 20, so I can't beat myself up over that.
So Happy Birthday to me, soon. We'll see how it goes, won't we?
Until then...
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