I SAY IT'S MY BIRTHDAY . . . {SOUND OF TWANGY GUITAR WHICH I WON'T EVEN ATTEMPT TO IMITATE}
. . . it's your birthday too, yeah.
(No it's not! Getcher' own damn birthday, this one's mine.)
So, the clock on the east coast having passed 6:44 am, I'm now Officially 39 Years-Old™. And I'm feeling allllllll peachy & keen and all that jazz about the fact.
Ugh.
Usually I take the advancing of the years in stride. I feel young, I'm told I look young, and as anyone who's read so many as two of my posts knows, I haven't acted or thought in a manner within a decade of my real age in . . . well, ever. But 39! Jeez.
Now residing at the dusky end of my 30s, I'm so damn close to the traditional definition of middle-aged that even I can't fool myself any longer about still being a "guy." A "dude." A "bud" to my friends. Nahhhh, that won't play much longer.
I'm a fucking "man" now. A MAN. For a couple years now, when I'm in a store, especially on work days when I'm in a suit, I'm "sir," by default. When someone addresses me after viewing my credit card, I'm no longer Mike, but Mr. Mike.* On the street, young women bow deferentially in honor of my age, status, and rank in the Confucionist hierarchy.
Ok, that last part isn't true. But suffice to say, these lovely young things aren't returning my smoldering glances with anything but disgust as they ask themselves, "Why the hell is that old guy looking at me? Yechh."
I have a grey chest hair. Literally one. But let me tell ya, fellas, that's about 153 too many.
Oh well, enough of my whining. As always on this special day, I hope to get through it without too much hassle at work, and without my wife spending too much money on whatever she may be planning in honor of my advancing decrepitude. Which reminds me. The longer I stay married, the more I find the whole notion of spouses "buying" gifts for each other rather quaint, if not downright silly. The thought's nice, without a doubt. But when you're just spending your shared money to make the purchases, there's more than a small element of the absurd in play. Ok, I'm a cranky curmudgeon, I'll admit it.
Can you imagine when I hit 40?
-------------
* Not my real last name. I'm not, in fact, named Mike Mike. I know it'd be funny if I was, but I ain't. And at 39 it'd no longer be cool or funky if I changed my name legally to Mike Mike. Instead, it'd be . . . pathetic.
(No it's not! Getcher' own damn birthday, this one's mine.)
So, the clock on the east coast having passed 6:44 am, I'm now Officially 39 Years-Old™. And I'm feeling allllllll peachy & keen and all that jazz about the fact.
Ugh.
Usually I take the advancing of the years in stride. I feel young, I'm told I look young, and as anyone who's read so many as two of my posts knows, I haven't acted or thought in a manner within a decade of my real age in . . . well, ever. But 39! Jeez.
Now residing at the dusky end of my 30s, I'm so damn close to the traditional definition of middle-aged that even I can't fool myself any longer about still being a "guy." A "dude." A "bud" to my friends. Nahhhh, that won't play much longer.
I'm a fucking "man" now. A MAN. For a couple years now, when I'm in a store, especially on work days when I'm in a suit, I'm "sir," by default. When someone addresses me after viewing my credit card, I'm no longer Mike, but Mr. Mike.* On the street, young women bow deferentially in honor of my age, status, and rank in the Confucionist hierarchy.
Ok, that last part isn't true. But suffice to say, these lovely young things aren't returning my smoldering glances with anything but disgust as they ask themselves, "Why the hell is that old guy looking at me? Yechh."
I have a grey chest hair. Literally one. But let me tell ya, fellas, that's about 153 too many.
Oh well, enough of my whining. As always on this special day, I hope to get through it without too much hassle at work, and without my wife spending too much money on whatever she may be planning in honor of my advancing decrepitude. Which reminds me. The longer I stay married, the more I find the whole notion of spouses "buying" gifts for each other rather quaint, if not downright silly. The thought's nice, without a doubt. But when you're just spending your shared money to make the purchases, there's more than a small element of the absurd in play. Ok, I'm a cranky curmudgeon, I'll admit it.
Can you imagine when I hit 40?
-------------
* Not my real last name. I'm not, in fact, named Mike Mike. I know it'd be funny if I was, but I ain't. And at 39 it'd no longer be cool or funky if I changed my name legally to Mike Mike. Instead, it'd be . . . pathetic.
posted by Mike at 6:49 AM
41 Comments:
Happy birthday. Thirty-five seemed more tramatic to me. I remember thinking that I thought I'd be smarter by then.
Fifty is easier than you might think.
Thanks man.
Twenty-nine absolutely devastated me. I remember thinking . . . shit, I'm almost 30, I'm not where I thought I'd be, and I have no idea where I'm going.
(Plus, I distinctly recall that I hadn't gotten laid in a while, which was bumming me out to no end.)
Funny thing is, now that I'm almost 40, I'm not where I thought I'd be, & I'm not sure where I'm going next.
The other "problem" isn't a problem this time around, though marriage presents its own slew of difficulties, so . . .
I'm kidding around.
Sort of.
Happy Birthday Mike! I'm roughly 6 months behind you so "I feel your pain." Have a shot of Jager, it'll dull the pain.
As for spouses still giving each other gifts despite a shared bank account, it's the thought that counts. My wife and I still try to surprise each other with stuff we think the other person will like. And, amazingly enough, we still do.
My wife and I still try to surprise each other with stuff we think the other person will like. And, amazingly enough, we still do.
Yeah, that's the way to play it for sure. Still can be pretty hit-or-miss though, even after years together. It amazes me how couples can know each other so well, so intimately, yet not have a clue as to what the other actually wants in terms of toys, hobby-stuff, geek-out items, etc.
Happy barf day. That's about how birthdays make me feel at almost 50.
Hey what's your favorite part of getting older? Is it like me, that the alternative is so crappy?
I'm now at the age-point where my body is so much less forgiving than it was only a few years ago that it dramatically affects my lifestyle. Man I've had to make big concessions to health in the last few years. No more drinking. Changed diet. More exercise. Glasses.
Its pathetic.
Hey what's your favorite part of getting older? Is it like me, that the alternative is so crappy?
My (semi-serious) carping & whining notwithstanding, I wouldn't wanna be 25 again. I loved being that age, and I have some great memories, but I'm quite satisfied being just the age I am.
Youth isn't only wasted on the young, it's somewhat overrated. For all the freedom one has when young, there are a hundred others that you can't access.
I make my own way in life more now than I did 15 years ago, and that's a very good thing to me.
Gratz! You'll catch me yet!
I'm mostly getting my wife gifts that we can share.
Like a new garbage disposal and nice bench to go in the backyard.
She'll get something pretty and useless too.
Like a new garbage disposal
Yeah, Weas. Cause nothing says "I love you" to the woman in you life better than a garbage disposal.
You better make sure it doesn't crush Weaseldog bones, or you could be in big trouble.
Or better yet, make sure the pretty & useless notion is reeeeeaaaaaal pretty.
Happy bday Mike Mike! You could always give yourself the gift of an affair, but Mrs. Mike may not be too keen on that.
Hehe, her disposal has been on the fritz a while. She's had me put off fixing it so that we could do things for family, for Christmas.
You could always give yourself the gift of an affair, but Mrs. Mike may not be too keen on that.
No affair, but I "give myself the gift" quite often, thank you very much. No need for a birthday on that one.
Though it's still unclear at this juncture whether Mrs. Mike is pro or anti self-gifting.
I agree though, she'd be something less than pleased if I decided to treat myself to the ultimate gift in honor of my aging.
her disposal has been on the fritz a while
Ohhhhh, now it's her disposal. The back-tracking begins! ;-)
Happy Birthday, Mikey Mike (how's that name for staying young?)!
Yeah, we're at the age (I've got 4 years on you) that if you get caught scoping out younger women you're a creep. But in 15-20 years we will be charmingly lascivious old men. That's something to look forward to, I guess.
Sigh.
in 15-20 years we will be charmingly lascivious old men.
I'm already charmingly lascivious.
And lasciviously charming. Hell, I'm even lascivingly charmivious on occasion (though never charmiviosly lasciving, as I am a gentleman).
But no one seems to appreciate the subtleties of my particular brand of charm.
(If I keep this silliness up, will I spontaneously get younger?)
She won't let me say its mine!
A common question I hear is, "What are you doing in MY kitchen?"
Happy birthday, guy! :-) Enjoy 39, it's a good year. So are the forties. No, really, they are. The fifties are a different story, but they're not horrible, either. Just look forward to needing more than 4 hours sleep a night, or else you're in serious pain. And you can't digest onions like you used to.
Happy Birthday!
Applesaucer
Thanks Donna and Applesaucer.
And you can't digest onions like you used to.
Now there we go! People ask, why did you start blogging? And you know, it's the little snippets of information that you can't get anywhere else that make it so worthwhile.
Applesaucer, any thoughts on the effects of your namesake on an aging body? Aging mind?
Hey, Mr. Mike, happy birthday. I'm 41. I hated my 40th. Especially since I had these big plans to turn 40 in Vegas. I was going to go the whole cliched strippers and booze and gambling route, but then your former boss intervened and made me stay in the office the week of my birthday.
BTW, I like Mr. Mike, but it's a probably a good thing that the original Mr. Mike is dead -- he might not take kindly to someone ripping him off.
the original Mr. Mike
Is that Michael O'Donahue? I just remembered, after many years, that I saw a pretty bad flick in 1979 or so called Mr. Mike's Mondo Video.
I think Mr. Bill may have made a cameo appearence, along with Belushi & Ackroyd,a nd maybe a few of the other NRFPTPs. Ring a bell?
I remember the video.
It was bad? I thought it went rather well with beer and tequila shots.
Dennis Perrin wrote a book about him.
http://redstateson.blogspot.com/
Happy Birthday Mike.
Happy Birthday, Mike! We're holding a celebration in your honor at Flashdancers in the city this weekend. Hope you can make it.
Thanks, Ed.
a celebration in your honor at Flashdancers
Well, OM, that would be appropriate. Afterall, groups of gorgeous woman have long been known to leap onto tables and spontaneously tear their clothes off upon my entering a room.
So it makes all the sense in the world.
Yes, Michael O'Donahue. One of the original SNL writers. He was supposed to be one seriously bad bastard. He appeared on the show every now and then as Mr. Mike. I remember it as kind of Hunter S. Thompson-type character, without the wit, or the charm, or the intelligence, or the skill, or the talent...
And I can't make the Flashdancers party, but I'll be in Vegas next week, so I'll see what I can do to help out the celebration while I'm there.
Happy Birthday, Mike!
I agree it's better not to still be 25, says the 35-year-old who didn't start law school until almost age 28. Too much uncertainty about the future at that point.
More chance now, like you said, to create your own circumstances instead of to more passively discover and hope about them.
Have a great day!
Mr. Mike. I remember it as kind of Hunter S. Thompson-type character, without the wit, or the charm, or the intelligence, or the skill, or the talent...
Yeah John, that about sums up my memories of the man. Speaking of the Good Doctor, and NRFPTPs, the man who once played Lazlo alongside Bill Murray's Hunter S in Where The Buffalo Roam, Peter Boyle, died.
Perhaps a short tribute tomorrow morn.
Happy Birthday, dude!
Thanks Kelly.
Yeah, I was nearly 31 when I started Law School. I consider the age & experience to have been huge advantages for me, especially in the crucible of 1st year.
I'm guessing that you, like most "older" law students, felt the same.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
Happy Birthday, Mike. Like DED, I'm six months behind you...
[sighs]
Thanks, Toast. You're sneaking up towards the big 4-oh yourself, no?
Yeah, I saw that Frank Barone had died. I forgot that he was Lazlo. I might have to pull out "Young Frankenstein" tonight.
Well, whattaya' know? It's turned into a full-fledged Birthday party here.
I'm just gonna sit back and enjoy . . .
I don't really remember Mike O'Donohue. I tried finding him on YouTube to no avail.
Dennis Perrin worked with him and asserts that he was funny. I have no basis to go by.
Maybe that's the next book on my list?
Thanks, Toast. You're sneaking up towards the big 4-oh yourself, no?
1 year, 1 month, and 13 months away. Not that I'm counting.
But I will always be a guy and a dude. Being a man looks like too much damned work.
Oops. I meant 13 days. I think that was a semi-conscious attempt to push things off...
1 year, 1 month, and 13 days away. Not that I'm counting. But I will always be a guy and a dude. Being a man looks like too much damned work. (Edited for calendarial accuracy).
Oh, so you really are about my age. Like one month off.
Yeah, I hear you on the guy/man thing. A few of my friends gave me some shit about that in e-mail today. Seems they're insisting that they, and I, are "guys" forever, screw the "man" shit.
>Well, whattaya' know? It's turned into a full-fledged Birthday party here. I'm just gonna sit back and enjoy . . .
[pops the cork on a bottle of virtual bubbly]
>Usually I take the advancing of the years in stride.
I just have to smile because you are =so= still young stuff. And as my older sis is fond of saying, "Young stuff is good."
Just thought you'd like to know. :-)
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