3-0, fool! What?!

Strangely, I feel no different. I think when you jettison artificial deadlines for your goals in life, milestone birthdays such as this are neutered for the most part. I don't feel old. I don't feel unaccomplished. (Not to say neither is true, I just do't feel it.) I'm just one year closer to being able to legally date women "half my age." And that can only be a good thing.

I don't feel like I'm getting stodgy, either. My tastes have not ossified/pussified. I actually feel better conditioned, physically, than I have in quite some time. And, of course, my pimp hand is stonger than ever. Intelligence remains low, but confidence creeps ever higher.

Anyway, the intent here is not shameless self-promotion/deprecation (well, not with this post; obviously, this blog, like most personal blogs, is a big fucking vanity project). Just a few meager ruminations on turning thirty. I'm the first in my group of friends (at least local friends; my out-of-towners all beat me to it) to hit this mark, and it's not as earth shattering as I once imagined.

I think today, because I can, I will use this phrase wrecklessly (complete with mock-Japanese accent): "Please to moustache ride?"