My Body Is Exploding
Well, so I turned 30 in June, and I figured it was nigh time that I went to the doctor and got myself inspected and stamped with a freshness date. So I show up, strip, get random gaping needles jammed into various body parts, cough while the doctor is strategically cradling my tender manhood, and then throw my clothes back on and head home.
It turns out that I have elephantiasis of the ego. No, wait...I have extremely high cholesterol levels. Not the elephant thing. Also, I am dying, slowly. Apparently one's body begins to slowly decay when one reaches the respectable age of thirty, forever turning its back on the majestic fruits of young manhood and sprinting at full speed towards wrinkled, diabetic prune. If only somebody had told me this sooner, I might not have wallowed in the sordid debauchery I so eagerly embraced when I turned 29. Twenty-nine is a good year! I shall forevermore respond to any question about either the condition of my scrotum or my age by ejaculating twenty-nine at top volume, after which I slowly lower my gaze to the ground beneath my shoes and begin to sob uncontrollably.
It turns out that I have elephantiasis of the ego. No, wait...I have extremely high cholesterol levels. Not the elephant thing. Also, I am dying, slowly. Apparently one's body begins to slowly decay when one reaches the respectable age of thirty, forever turning its back on the majestic fruits of young manhood and sprinting at full speed towards wrinkled, diabetic prune. If only somebody had told me this sooner, I might not have wallowed in the sordid debauchery I so eagerly embraced when I turned 29. Twenty-nine is a good year! I shall forevermore respond to any question about either the condition of my scrotum or my age by ejaculating twenty-nine at top volume, after which I slowly lower my gaze to the ground beneath my shoes and begin to sob uncontrollably.
posted by Joseph at 11:17 PM
2 Comments:
Although my chronological age is hard to ignore, I find that I forget how old I am quite regularly. Many years ago I was asked how old I was by some new acquaintance. I eagerly responded with a number to find myself promptly jabbed in the ribs and reminded that I was in fact a good 4 years older than the year that I quoted. Apparently, like the tide, my age ebbs and flows according to my moods. I praise your attempt at avoiding the 30+ stigma, but there is life out there!
Thank you for your praise. I will admit, I even feel guilty when I am filling out forms or applications or surveys of some sort and I find I am no longer in the coveted 18 to 29 demographic. I look from side to side to see if anyone is watching, and then, quickly and surreptitiously, I darken the appropriate bubble with clenched teeth and curled toes.
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