Some bad news...

I always find it difficult to write when there isn’t shit for good news. And these days, there isn’t shit for good news. There’s plenty of shitty ass news though, such as...

The Milwaukee Brewers have been reduced to trying to shove each other across the plate:



Brett Favre won’t go away (or stay away):



And my birthday is this week:



I’ll actually be 29, that picture is old. Yeah, so Paint Shop wasn’t so good back then, cut me some slack.

The thing about being 29 is, it’s kind of like being 20, only in reverse. Instead of having something to look forward to for the next year, when you’re 29, the year can’t be fucking long enough. In fact, no year can be fucking long enough.

I’m not one of those people who jumps ahead in age and says, “I’m almost 30.” But, I’m almost 30. And don’t say 30 is the new 20, because that’s a bunch of bullshit that 20 year olds say to 30 year olds to make them not feel so shitty. No one that’s already 30 says that, because they know it’s not true. 30 is just when you realize that you’re not young anymore, but you’re not really old either. You don’t really know what the fuck you are. Besides overweight and poor. You’re too old to hang out in the bars with your friends all the time, but too young to sit on the back porch drinking Hamms. Do they even make that shit anymore?

The weird thing is, as I get older, I have more and more respect for old people. Because I know what it feels like to say to someone, “What do you mean you don’t know who Twisted fuckin’ Sister is?! What’s wrong with you?!” And then you realize you’re talking to someone who wasn’t even alive in the same decade that Twisted fuckin’ Sister was.

And no... Twisted fuckin’ Sister was not fuckin’ emo.

Nick