Last weekend my family and I were invited to a Christmas party at my wife's ex boss' house in Amherst. I was actually pretty excited about going, believe it or not. Let me paint a picture for you, about 8 years B.K. (before kids), when we lived in WMass, my wife was a day care teacher in Amherst and she had some pretty cool co-workers. We went to a Christmas party at her boss' house (now ex-boss, duh) in Amherst (same house, same town). All of my wife's co-workers were there and it was a fun time. About a six pack in, I found myself mingling like I normally do but everyone was staring at me while I was having a conversation with a lady in her late 40s. We talked and drank ber for about 20 minutes while everyone else kept staring at us. The whole time I was wondering if I had spilled blue cheese dressing on my black jeans or something.
After she excused herself and had left the party, people were coming up to me and asking what we talked about. Well, we talked about a few things but nothing of huge importance. Come to find out the whole time I was drinking beer with the Mayor of Northampton. Now I know why everyone asked what we were talking about, when I drink and get a little fuzzy, I get pretty truthful. Not truthful about my deep secrets or anything, but truthful about how I feel about things...I guess people were worried I was going to say something about Northmapton or lesbians or something.
Anyway, I missed the last party we were invited to (damn 6 day work week) and my wife had a good time with some of her old co-workers so this time I was genuinely excited to go.
Like everything else you experience in the past, it was nothing like I remembered. It was loud, crowded and just way too many people there...holy shit, I am sounding like my dad now, wait what month is it? Awwwww craptacular....next month is January...
That explains everything, January (besides being the greyist month) is my birth month. January 15th to be exact and this year I will be turning 35. Birthdays were fun and exciting up until 30 for me, and now I just see five year increments closer to being old...REALLY OLD.
Let's face it, from 2-13 you get birthday parties with friends, get lots of presents and it's awesome! I skipped 1 because you don't remember anything and have no control of what you do. From 14 to 15 you are kind of in limbo, waiting for that magical 16th birthday. 16 lets you have some freedom by getting your license (at least in Massachusetts) and you get a little more independent.
17 is another limbo year and then you turn 18. Technically an adult but not quite, able to buy cigarettes (if you smoke..I didn't, disgusting habit) and do things without the permission of your parents. 19 is again a limbo year and 20 you are no longer in the teens.
21....glorious 21, the real milestone for most people. You get your first legal drink! Note I said legal. I think I had a pretty good 21st birthday...or the first half of my 21st year for that matter, at least people tell me I had fun. I do remember not being carded upon buying my first legal drink at The Ye Old Watering Hole and that pissed me off! I wanted to prove I was 21 dammit. What you don't think I'm 21? Well here you go bitches!
25 is the next big birthday...a quarter of a century old, able to rent a car, your friends picking on you because you are a quarter of a century old. Usually a good birthday party, you're past adulthood, you might even own your own home at this point, you truly CAN do anything you wanted to do.
The there's 30...like a military sniper with only one good eye, it shoots you just to wound your pride. I was born at 8:26 AM and I swear, at 8:27 AM on my 30th birthday my body said "Fuck it, I'm done.". I've had more injuries in the past 5 years than I did in the 29 years leading up to number 30.
When I heard my Parents talking about sleeping wrong and that's why their arm or leg hurt I laughed, how the hell can you sleep wrong? You lay down close your eyes and fall asleep. I now know what they meant, I wake up with a sore shoulder or my knee aches.
That's another thing I used to laugh my ass off at, my dad would be able to predict the weather by using his back. "My back is hurting, we must be getting a storm in a couple of days.". Yeah sure Dad, good job watching channel 3 and Hilton Caderley to get the forecast. Nope, my knee hurts like hell when the weather changes..WTF? why did I get chosen to be a human barometer?
Gas and heartburn...holy shit (no pun intended) the heartburn I get now is ridiculous. I have a bottle of Tums on the headboard, in my truck, in my wife's truck and in both bathrooms. I drink water and BLAM! I get heartburn. My doctor says it's because I drank a lot when I was younger...psssht, I didn't drink THAT much...did I? And gas, now anyone who knows me knows I am a champion farter and yes I am proud of that. I can clear out a room and make an echo across a lake, right Chris? But there is a difference between farting gas and What The Hell Did I Eat? gas. It doesn't matter what I ate, there it is, like a Rancor clawing its way out of its holding cell. You can only blame the dog so many times but having 3 boys is a wonderful thing in this case, you can blame them, especially the one still in diapers and can't speak yet.
Speaking of sharting...after I turned 30, I guess I've had issues with wiping. Never had an issue before. Now before you get all grossed out, it's not like I am shitting my pants, just skid marks. Now after you drop a stink pickle and you're wiping you check each time to see if more came off, once you get that clean, pure white toilet paper wad, you're done, stand up and flush. I know others can relate to this thing I call seepage. You KNOW you wiped perfectly clean but then something starts itching up there....don't deny it, you know exactly what I'm talking about. I've even gone as far as using baby wipes, yet another good thing to having 1 in diapers still, but still sometimes, not all the time, you skid mark.
Age is only a number and a wise man once told me that we're not getting older, the younger are just catching up....