Well, apparently I am the only one left on earth who cares about how old I am and who can answer the question “how old are you?” correctly. The only one! All ya’ll out there are just like Nordic Boy and have no idea how old you are and you don’t care, and I am amazed! Look at you, being all healthy! I was expecting…well, not that. Doesn’t anyone think about mortality? The passage of time? You mean to tell me that I am the only one who thinks time is careening out of control, and that being 10 years old, or 15, or 25, feels like yesterday and it’s ree-frickin-diculous that years are piling on years and hey, will someone step on the brakes because this whole time thing is WAY TOO FAST and birthdays just seem to highlight that fact?
Oh well. I am so on my own with this one, I can see that. Still, you guys really blew my mind. All the comments and all basically saying the same thing.
You know what really gets me. Here I was trying to write a post with the clear subtext of Nordic Boy as weirdo and me as sane person and you guys went and ruined that whole premise. Man!
In other news, despite Nordic Boy’s lack of knowledge about his own age, we had a damn fine birthday. Well, almost. It started off rocky, because we had both taken the day off to do FUN! BIRTHDAY! THINGS! but then he found out he had a meeting he couldn’t miss in the morning. No matter. It would only last an hour and then we would meet up and start with the birthday activities. Except those bastards at his workplace kept him over the one hour time limit that was promised. And not just by a teensy bit. By over FIVE HOURS. That’s right. A one hour meeting turned into a six hour meeting. With no lunch, even! So, he didn’t get out of work until evening, which means that him getting the day off for his birthday boiled down to a day off wherein he was still at work.
I thought this might have made him a bit grumpy, so I pulled out the failsafe grumpy-combat behavior. When he got home and opened the door, I greeted him with a song and dance version of “‘S Wonderful” that would have made Gene Kelly proud. And you know what he did? He joined right in, even throwing in the Georges What’s-His-Name accent and everything. I don’t care what anyone says, nothing is more cheerful than a badly sung but balls out show tune. Oh fine, if you want to see it done WELL, then you can click here. That’s only if, you know, you want to see it IN TUNE. Boring.
Then, on account of him not having had any lunch, we had to hightail it out the door to get a nice birthday dinner kind of early. Ok, really early. At 5:30. Who says we aren’t getting old when we are rocking the early bird special like that?
Thanks for all the well-wishes, guys. I know Nordic Boy appreciated it, and now feels quite validated that he doesn’t know how old he is. You’ve shown me what’s what, that’s for sure. Knowing your age is like, SO yesterday. I see that now.
Kiss the rings, I’m out.