thirtysomething

Remember the TV show from the late 80's-early 90's? Well, neither do I... I never watched the crap. That's neither here nor there... and frankly, I'm not quite sure why I brought it up to begin with. Anyway...

So, I turned 35 years old yesterday... right smack-dab in the middle of my 30's, in other words, thirtysomething. Oh yeah, that's why I brought it up. Anyway... I worked, just a nondescript day... yet another infinitesimal sample in the discrete-time signal that is my life these days. Afterwards, some of us went out in honor of the occasion (my friend was kind enough to put together an informal little gathering, despite my insistence that I didn't particularly care to do anything). We had some beers, listened to some live music, enjoyed some intelligent discourse on a number of matters, including poop, sex, work and poop... all-in-all, quite a nice time. When the time came for me to call it a night, (in other words, when everyone other than me had left) I ran by the friendly neighborhood Taco Bell late-night drive thru, then back to the house. And now the payoff, the reason I felt compelled to retch up all this background tedium! I awoke this morning, my arm draped above me, with the back of my hand resting on my forehead... and as the fog of a drunken evening's repose began to dissipate, I discovered that in my hand was a half-eaten burrito, now a cold and congealed remnant of my early morning mess. Yes, I had fallen asleep / passed out while in the act of devouring my alcohol-absorbing aliment. Fabulous...

So this is what has become of my life... I'm 35, single, fat... and sleeping with a half-eaten bean burrito on my melon. America... truly, I am living the dream!