My life has been renewed for a 28th season. I’m in the office celebrating with an oatmeal raisin cookie because Korean birthday cakes are just cool whip lathered over a huge twinkie.
27 was good. I’d recommend it to a friend. This is one of the seasons they’ll talk about when the show is cancelled.
In your late 20s your birthday hits and it’s just, eh. It feels about as good as finding $5 on the ground. Which is still a cool feeling. Today I’m 28. I do believe I’m a man now; I keep catching myself acting all stately and mature. This conceit will last a few days. But now is the sweet spot. The professor years of seeing women who are far too young for me. I wasn’t good at being a boy and I’ve been waiting my whole life for this. I’ll be dead by 32; executed by a jilted frat boy while I’m drinking wine in my study with a sweater on.
I wish my birthday had been yesterday. I got to work and there was nobody here. Turned out everything was closed because of Korean college entrance exams. So I had a free day to be out among the daywalkers. You can’t really feel the pulse of a place until you explore it during work hours. Quiet sunny streets. Kids with Down’s Syndrome out stomping on leaves with each other. Gym at 10:30 A.M. with the menopausal homemakers trying to self-arrest the decline. You never see a Korean girl in the gym. They don’t have to work out.
Big plans, it’ll be a big year. I mean, it actually won’t, but I like saying it will be. This year I’ll stay abroad. Take all the good shit on my blog and make a travelog ebook out of it. You monkeys will all buy it because I won’t reiterate that it’s just my classic blog shit and then I’ll be set. Come on guys we can do this. Crowdfund my beer and apartment and my pursuit of luxury. So that when you read this blog a year from now it’ll just be a picture of me with my middle finger flipped up.
OK there’s the bell. Where’s the beer at?