I am getting old and while my body is fully aware of this, my brain is still 18. A baby’s brain and an old man’s heart, took 32 years just to get this far. For some reason I just refuse to put it down and act my age and the signs are starting to show. For example:
A couple of months ago I went to see Megadeth and had a great time at the show. The one thing about me and a metal show is I try to experience it all and by all I mean stage diving, crowd surfing and of course moshing. Most people shy away from an invite to such a show and I now understand that. Especially since I came home with a broken rib and no clue how it happened.
Another lovely incident happened recently when walking home from the pub late at night. I was minding my one business when I heard someone sprinting my way and when I turned to look….
That was all I remember. The next thing I know I have two girls helping me sit up with blood everywhere. Some pussy guy ran up, slugged me and took off, leaving me knocked out and bleeding. Can you believe that?
So this is a week later. It looks so much better than it did over the weekend and I am starting to not scare as many people. In fact, I was at the gym and a guy asked me about it. I told him, “first rule of fight club…” and he smiled and told me it looks bad-ass. I didn’t know get knocked out could make someone look tougher. I need to make up a better story.
Well, like I said, I need to act 32 and not 23. Walking home from a pub alone at 2:30 in the morning isn’t wise and jumping off a stage into a mosh pit is even less wise. Who knows, tomorrow I might take up base jumping with a questionable parachute? But for now, I think I am going to stick to my new hobby; shitty origami.
It has been so long and I have missed you all so much. Really. Honestly. The thing is I just don’t know how to jump back in this whole blogging thing again so I guess I am just going to do it. There has been a few life directions I have changed and last Sunday I turned 30 so this is as good of a time as any to start up the ol’ VeggieMacabeness that will someday be the word of all humanity. Just wait. “Be Excellent To Each Other”.
I was asked to speak at the 2010 Young Executives Conference for NEC and Konica Minolta next week about what lessons I have learned and how I attribute them to my success. There are a few things wrong with that last statement. One, I am neither young or an executive. I am a project manager for a medium size office that will pay for my Neuro PhD. Two, everything I learned in life has been from the 1987-91 TGIF line up on ABC so the joke is on them, I guess. Three, I am far from a success. Do successful people break off the trunk from the broccoli in the grocery store to make it lighter or hold onto a box of Nabisco Spookie Fruits from the eighties? Not really.
I know I am getting older and it really hit me when my parents sent me their gift. It was a fruit basket. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful because many people my age don’t get anything, but a fruit basket? I just sent a fruit basket to a new customer as a token of appreciation. This does not compute. Maybe I am just being a whiny weenie Will? Nononono. Wtf? A fruit basket?
I have finally managed to ignore all vices for the past couple of months and hit the gym to get back in the shape I was in at 28. My goal is to be in better shape, look hotter and be tip-top happidy hap-hap happy come this summer. I have a goal to make this the one true crazy summer of fun and mayhem. And then grow up. You know, like buy land, get married and have kids? I at least make the effort.
Oh shit, it happened. I hate teenagers. Everything about them makes me want to hurt puppies and babies. I have no idea where that came from but as I am writing this I just saw two walk by in their emo-skinny jean-black and purple-wierdo hat-sad walk and I want to say, “MRAAAROOORAPDAP!” because there are no words for my pissiness. “I weep for the future“.
I know that this post had a tinge of bitchiness to it but I promise great stuff on the way including a Megadeth backstage post on the first of March. Man, I hope Dave isn’t too big of a prick. And I hope I don’t get nervous and get shaky leg syndrome like the time I met Alice Cooper. That was just embarrassing.