Another year, another beer.
I turned 26 yesterday. It's hard to believe that time is flying by this quickly. I remember when I was 8 or so, and I was talking to my mom about the ressurection and the end of the world that I wouldn't ever see the year 2000. That was like, the definite end-all of time as we know it. Now we've far surpassed that, and don't know when the end is coming (no 2017 jokes, please).
3/12/2006: I woke up to Desirée wishing me a happy birthday at 8am. That was sweet, but I was hoping for more sleepy time. I sat at the computer for the majority of the morning, playing games and working on some music. I got hugs from the family, and the old talk started. "You're closer to 30 than you are to 20" seems to be the big hit this year. I'm the only person that says, "I'm over a quarter century." It's hard not to get a little discouraged when you hear these things. Summer called me and wished me a happy b-day, but in actuality needed help starting an outline for a music history paper (which I wasn't much help on, sadly enough). Michael bought me lunch at Sonic for my b-day (although if everytime Michael bought me lunch it was my b-day, I'd have a b-day every couple days).
So last evening a bunch of college friends were getting together for dinner because some old colleagues were getting married and were visiting. They chose to go to Applebee's (when Scott picked me up he said "you won't be able to guess where we're going." To clarify, Scott and I go to Applebee's quite often), so we head over there and have dinner. The food was horrible. I usually don't have a problem there, but I got a dry dry steak with browned mashed potatoes and broccoli that had ... broken up crutons over it? I don't know, but it wasn't impressive. Scott got the nacho plate, and the chips were all chewy. And our waitress took forever.
Anyways, I knew the b-day dessert was coming, but I never did see them do it. They were pretty stealthy. I don't think anyone ever left the table while I was watching. Oh, wait. I left the table to go to the restroom. Doh. I set myself up. Anyways, I hear hooting and hollering coming from the kitchen and the oh-so-familiar hand clapping. Here they came. I start dancing, and doing hand motions for the song (like on the line where they say "from Applebee's to you" I point at all of them, and then to myself), and singing along. They were pretty impressedthat I was so well-versed in their bee's-culture (or stupified ... "he needs to get out more"). The whole table got a good laugh out of it, and that made it worthwhile.
About this point, everyone wants to know what we're doing after dinner. No one will even throw an idea out there (not that there are very many ideas to be had in Tyler), so I tell them all about this game I used to play with my friends back in my college days (oooooh so very long ago). One person throws an idea out there (usually pertaining to where we're going for lunch), and then whoever vetoes it has to choose another place, and so on until no one has a problem with the decision. This works great because no one likes to have to make the choice, so usually people will be less picky if it's sorta ok for them. So, after I tell this story, Scott says, "OK! I'll start. Let's do putt-putt." And then I feel him kicking me under the table, and I say, "Uh, let's not. How about bowling?" Someone vetoes that on account of the amount of smoke in those places, and then it just sorta goes downhill into cow-tipping and frog-gigging. Long story short, we played putt-putt anyways. We had 4 guys and 4 girls, so we did the expected guys verses girls routine. The way the girls were shouting during some of the shots, I expected they would destroy us. After all the numbers were added up, though, our team beat them by 30 shots. THIRTY. That's insane. That's a whole other person added on to their score. Anyways, yeah. 30.
After that, Scott and I said our adieus, and went to Bennigann's and had an Irish Carbomb in my honor (or as the receipt said, a "Bennigann Blast". Gay). I wish I could say the day was more exciting than that, but it really wasn't. The older you get, the less excited you are to see it coming. I've already passed all the landmark ages (even the less well-known ones): 16 - driving; 18 - smoking and gambling (that one wasn't very exciting); 21 - drinking; 25 - lower car insurance (for us crazy guy drivers). And here I am. All I have left is retirement and/or social security. Oh, and a black balloons b-day at 40 to signify my over-the-hillness.
It's also a time to reflect on what I've accomplished so far. I've decided that the answer is: not enough.
3/12/2006: I woke up to Desirée wishing me a happy birthday at 8am. That was sweet, but I was hoping for more sleepy time. I sat at the computer for the majority of the morning, playing games and working on some music. I got hugs from the family, and the old talk started. "You're closer to 30 than you are to 20" seems to be the big hit this year. I'm the only person that says, "I'm over a quarter century." It's hard not to get a little discouraged when you hear these things. Summer called me and wished me a happy b-day, but in actuality needed help starting an outline for a music history paper (which I wasn't much help on, sadly enough). Michael bought me lunch at Sonic for my b-day (although if everytime Michael bought me lunch it was my b-day, I'd have a b-day every couple days).
So last evening a bunch of college friends were getting together for dinner because some old colleagues were getting married and were visiting. They chose to go to Applebee's (when Scott picked me up he said "you won't be able to guess where we're going." To clarify, Scott and I go to Applebee's quite often), so we head over there and have dinner. The food was horrible. I usually don't have a problem there, but I got a dry dry steak with browned mashed potatoes and broccoli that had ... broken up crutons over it? I don't know, but it wasn't impressive. Scott got the nacho plate, and the chips were all chewy. And our waitress took forever.
Anyways, I knew the b-day dessert was coming, but I never did see them do it. They were pretty stealthy. I don't think anyone ever left the table while I was watching. Oh, wait. I left the table to go to the restroom. Doh. I set myself up. Anyways, I hear hooting and hollering coming from the kitchen and the oh-so-familiar hand clapping. Here they came. I start dancing, and doing hand motions for the song (like on the line where they say "from Applebee's to you" I point at all of them, and then to myself), and singing along. They were pretty impressedthat I was so well-versed in their bee's-culture (or stupified ... "he needs to get out more"). The whole table got a good laugh out of it, and that made it worthwhile.
About this point, everyone wants to know what we're doing after dinner. No one will even throw an idea out there (not that there are very many ideas to be had in Tyler), so I tell them all about this game I used to play with my friends back in my college days (oooooh so very long ago). One person throws an idea out there (usually pertaining to where we're going for lunch), and then whoever vetoes it has to choose another place, and so on until no one has a problem with the decision. This works great because no one likes to have to make the choice, so usually people will be less picky if it's sorta ok for them. So, after I tell this story, Scott says, "OK! I'll start. Let's do putt-putt." And then I feel him kicking me under the table, and I say, "Uh, let's not. How about bowling?" Someone vetoes that on account of the amount of smoke in those places, and then it just sorta goes downhill into cow-tipping and frog-gigging. Long story short, we played putt-putt anyways. We had 4 guys and 4 girls, so we did the expected guys verses girls routine. The way the girls were shouting during some of the shots, I expected they would destroy us. After all the numbers were added up, though, our team beat them by 30 shots. THIRTY. That's insane. That's a whole other person added on to their score. Anyways, yeah. 30.
After that, Scott and I said our adieus, and went to Bennigann's and had an Irish Carbomb in my honor (or as the receipt said, a "Bennigann Blast". Gay). I wish I could say the day was more exciting than that, but it really wasn't. The older you get, the less excited you are to see it coming. I've already passed all the landmark ages (even the less well-known ones): 16 - driving; 18 - smoking and gambling (that one wasn't very exciting); 21 - drinking; 25 - lower car insurance (for us crazy guy drivers). And here I am. All I have left is retirement and/or social security. Oh, and a black balloons b-day at 40 to signify my over-the-hillness.
It's also a time to reflect on what I've accomplished so far. I've decided that the answer is: not enough.
posted by Karl at 6:28 AM
3 Comments:
I really did call to wish you happy birthday, but since I had you on the phone...:) And you did help.
Dude, you're already over the hill. ;) (so am i...)
Thanks guys. :) Frog-gigging is a new one for me, too. You get a pole with a nail on the end, and you stab frogs. Mostly this is for those type that like frog legs.
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