I still have two years left of my 20s. That's what I keep telling myself. Once you hit 30, you're officially old. You're no longer allowed to eat Shark Bites fruit snacks, bite your nails, use your college ID to get student discounts or even use Facebook. Yeah, once you hit the big 3-0, it's time to leave the Internet for good and curse it while mumbling under your breath on a street corner.
But I'm still two years away ... two years away.
As you must know by now, I just turned 28 years old. On February 26th, 1982, I entered this world in Providence, Rhode Island to Kathy and Robert. This was years before babies were handed iPhones at the hospital, when kids were kids and Ronald Reagan was busy crushing the Soviet Union with his dreamy smile.
Did I do anything to celebrate? Not really. I've never made a big deal out of this. I don't expect the world to stop now that I'm a step closer to the grave. I do appreciate the nice Facebook posts, though. I must be a popular dude. Even had a retro Bynner Street argument on my wall between the usual suspects.
Don't you love Facebook?
The old jokes have been flying today, which was expected. I am older than most of my friends because I did an extra year of school between kindergarten and first grade. Combine that with my early birth date and I was a year older than my peers. (For the record, I did an extra year in elementary and in college. I sure got a late start in pretty much everything.)
However, at work I am on the young side. So I hear jokes about me watching the Pats in footie pajamas while sipping apple juice in one of those cups for toddlers. I didn't see Star Wars in theaters and I don't remember the Bill Buckner play.
So am I young 28 or and old 28? One guy at work said a few weeks ago that I was the oldest 27 year old in the world. His evidence? I still have an old cell phone that can't operate spy satellites or take my blood pressure. I still record TV shows with a VCR. When he brought out his PSP I had no idea what it was. I also had never heard of the God of War video game. Only on rare occasions have I used the Wii, PlayStation 3, XBox 360 or whatever else. I know very little about modern music and I've never been drunk. (Buzzed? Sure. Not full-out drunk, though. You try getting drunk on Speckled Hen.)
I have to admit, he has a strong case. I'm an old soul. You won't see me driving much faster than the speed limit and I participate in all the local Tea Party activities. I don't want Obama putting his guvmint hands on my Medicare. The only youthful thing I do is this here blog, which puts in me in a select group of about 200 million people. I also play Ping-Pong like a hungover three-year-old, if that counts.
This is depressing. I have to stop this blog entry. I should do something crazy and spontaneous soon to reignite my youthful spirit. I'll have plenty of time to act old when I am old.
And that's two years away.