Saturday, February 21, 2009

No longer shall I be plain Alonso Quijana!



Twenty-nine.

I don't feel any closer to death. In fact, I feel a bit farther, since I suffered from headache-y nausea all day that finally cleared up with distance from work and the killing off of unimportant brain cells.

Wasn't gonna hang out with the movie group for bowling, but changed my mind, since I'd never been, and I figured I'd be dog sick for the Awful Day. In that case, why not do something fun before, right?

Some of us got baked, then we went to Appleby's. Overpriced, mediocre food, perfect for someone with the mega-munchies and nothing in the way of standards. Drinking. Then bowling. The bowling alley was like white trash-istan, though some of it was not unpretty. Skanky, but not unpretty.

(One thing about trembling on the cusp of the big duce y nueve . . . everything that looks remotely cute is apparently jail bait. Or jail bait's hot MILF.)

Some coworkers joined us at the bowling alley. By the end of the night, many things had happened:


--I tried a new seasonal Sam Adams and feel face-first into love
--I rolled a strike completely by accident on my third roll, then not again. Subsequently, my best rolls were all the accidentally ones. Especially that one that bounced off the bumper and KO'd eight pins.
--Conversely, I accidentally destroyed part of a bumper-lane-thingy and chipped a bowling ball. But on the flip-side, I have a sliver of bowling ball as a souvenir of my maiden voyage down the lanes.
--I poked a hole in my hand when Friend tried to head-butt me and I tried to stop her by palming her granite head. She was wearing a cap that had a sharp thing on it, and, well, ouch.
--I got no sympathy for my hand injury.
--A friendly coworker became a friend and apparently we're cruising a gay-bar together at some point in the near future. And possibly a strip-club.
--I still look like I'm twenty.
--Friend's SO is pretty when he throws rocks, like lanky, lovely lightning.
--If life were The Big Lebowski, I'd be Donny. I accept that, no matter how much I might wish I was Walter. Another friend, who I'll call the Lithuanian Wank-face is Walt. Friend is The Jesus (that fucking creep, she sure can roll). Friend's SO is Lebowski. New Friend's Jacky Treehorn because she's raunchy and badass.
--Friend stole one of my rolls while New Friend was trying to set me up with one of her friends, 'cause apparently Shomer Shabbos means fuck-all, no matter how loud I scream it at Jewish bowlers who're winning.
--My game, such as it is, improved. Two games and I came in dead last in neither.
--I hope I don't get athlete's foot.
--I turned twenty-nine.


One day, one year, one hour, one whatever closer to my dirt nap. And for once I'm not scared. It's like Mr. Clemens said:

I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.

Totally smile-worthy. And not at all scary. For now, at least. I guess I'll try to hold onto that feeling.

So, I guess that's it for this particular anniversary of my birth. In the mean time I am, and will always remain--


6 comments:

  1. Since you seem to have ended on a positive note, can I assume it wouldn't attract your wrath if I wished you a happy birthday? Heh.

    PS - can I also inquire as to your plans for your bowling ball splinter?

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  2. 29 ... I think that was a good year.

    Happy Birtdhay!

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  3. Happy Birthday!

    When I learn to spell, I'll be downright dangerous!

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  4. FS: 'Tis a happy birthday, indeed, thanks! Quiet and un-stressy. I think I'm gonna start a personal trend--fun the day before, and zen the day of.

    I was thinking of bronzing the splinter. Or of at least getting an estimate on the bronzing process for half an inch of orange plastic. Probably won't though. I was gonna have my gnarly wisdom teeth bronzes and put on a necklace, but didn't. Getting those bastards out was way more important and life-improving than popping my bowling cherry. (Also potentially life-saving, to hear the dentist tell it. Pah!)

    Why? Do you want the bowling ball shard? It can be yours for the low, low, rock-bottom insane price of $19.95 plus shipping and handling.

    Act now. Operators are standing by. . . .

    TC: A whole year you can't remember clearly? That sounds like all my years. My long term memory is awful, but on the upside, when I'm old, if I go senile, I really won't know the difference.

    As it is, I've been faffing about for almost three decades. Just realizing it anew, in random moments blows my mind. But then, my mind has always been prone to blowing.

    Hee, at least it wasn't "birfdae" ;D

    And thanks!

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  5. If it's any consolation, I'm facing 39 very soon. About the only thing I have to look forward to is a pricey bottle of wine that's been squirreled away. I'd much rather get baked and try to bowl. :)

    What's a "SO"? Help an old guy out with your damn kid speak, and stay off my lawn!

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  6. If it's any consolation, I'm facing 39 very soon.

    Congrats! Or--Rats!

    Kidding :D

    I don't mind getting older, I just wish I were doing more with my life. That I had more of it figured out and squared away. And that I was independently wealthy. But if I'm half as cool, funny, and smart as you when I'm almost-thirty-nine, I'll count myself as pretty awesome, indeed.

    And if I also happen to own my own private island by that time . . . excellent. . . .

    About the only thing I have to look forward to is a pricey bottle of wine that's been squirreled away.

    To each his own. I don't really savor booze, I tend swill it indiscriminately. Expensive wine appeals not at all. Though expensive whisky--

    Oh, I'd love to take a drinking tour of Scotland someday. . . .

    Trade in the expensive wine for a night of pub-crawling with buddies. Darts, pool, karaoke. Bowling :)

    I'd much rather get baked and try to bowl. :)

    What's stopping you! Nothing, I say!

    What's a "SO"? Help an old guy out with your damn kid speak,

    ROTFLMAO--"Significant Other". I'm just too lazy to type it out. And definitely too lazy to type out "on-again-off-again-long-time-fuck-buddy".

    and stay off my lawn!

    I'll stay off your lawn if you gimme back my frisbee, Mister! I paid for it outta my allowance!

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