age = 30 - 1

Friday was my birthday. Thank you, thank you. None of you sent anything. So much for all the buzz of the internet showering me with riches beyond my wildest dreams. Yah, it was totally in the brochure.

I'm 29 now. In Logan's Run years I'm as good as dead. Of course, I wouldn't know that and I'd be living in a giant Biodome, not unlike the hilarious Pauly Shore. That's beside the point though. I used to consider 30 kind of old. Like, not yet wearing diapers and whatnot, but a good chunk of the game was played. Now I've decided that 45 is the new 30. (I would have made it 40, but I wanted to give myself an extra 6 years to make the next change. You wouldn't believe the paperwork.)

I went out Saturday with my friends and I swear somebody roofied me. I was swearing this Sunday morning as I was doing my best hydrant impression. I pulled it together in time for theMonica's surprise trip to the Indians game. The tickets were awesome - right behind home plate. There were about 7 foul balls in our vacinity. theMonica bought me some rassberry sorbet stuff and I was stupidly eating it when a foul ball came screaming towards my best girl. I was distracted by the sorbet guy relaxing in the aisle, but I saw it in time to reach out with my left hand in a futile attempt to catch it. Fyi, baseballs are hard. I got most of my paw on it, deflected it to my right where it fell into the waiting hands of some freeloading punk kid. Really, shouldn't I get the ball? My hand was numb for about 5 minutes, but fortunately I had that damned sorbet to ice it down.

At any rate, thanks to theMonica for her unbelievable willingness to do my bidding this weekend. She just went out to get me ice cream. God Bless her.