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David Knows What’s Up: I Just Turned 29

March 30, 2011

David Knows What’s Up: I Just Turned 29

I just turned 29. I know what you’re thinking: Bullspit! All David’s posts display such a natural affinity for youth-culture argot and enfant terribles energy! He can’t be that old! Well, am I reflecting the brilliant white light of the young or emitting it?

Rhetorsies.

But seriously, 29 is just about the end of the line. I haven’t even written a book yet and that makes me feel like a failure. No! No! I am not a failure! Dozens of people read this blog! But I’d really like to write a book. I have to. I have so many good ideas for a wicked author photo.

I’ll never be a hot young novelist. Chit, getting older really makes you think about your life. What have I done? Where am I going? Who will come with me? Will they have buffalo chicken wings when I get there? If I order a large, will it be mostly flatties or drummies? Should I bring wet wipes or will they provide? Can I get more fries and no carrot sticks?

Do they make something to soothe the ring of fire?

Buffalo Chukka Wugs aside, there are big issues that come into play when you’re knocking on death’s door. Like, for exampsies, will I die alone? Whoa whoa whoa! Simmer down! Yes, you’re absolutely right – Ol’ Uncle Big Dave-O isn’t lacking for ladyular attention. But – and this is something I’ve learned (or at least heard other people say) in my 29 years – love is different from “sex” (which I take to be some sort of euphemism for naked tickle fights). Just because someone is willing to blow zerberts on your belly deep into the night doesn’t mean they’re who you want to wake up on top of. I’ve learned that lesson the soft way.

Seriously, though, I’m still killing it all the time. But it’s less like a Van Damme bloodbath than it is a surgical strike take-out. And I have mixed feelings about that. After all, who wants to die alone and insignif?

Oy. I’m gonna go order some Crazy Bread from Lil’ Caesar.

Don’t let this happen to you.

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