Flashback 30 years ago today at 7:11 (a.m., not the convenience store) in Phoenix, Arizona in St. Joseph’s Hospital, along comes the Jeff you all know and sorta love and put up with because you could end up seeing your name in print or in a picture with a funny caption.
This is a special edition post, 30 Things About Turning 30 (that's what I call symmetry). Remember, this information is to be used solely for entertainment purposes, and should not be the basis of putting your life savings into the Powerball drawing, lest you plan on giving me a percentage of the windfall:
1. Is it any coincidence that the Roman numerals for 30 are XXX? (I mean as in 3XL, you pervs.)
2. I’ve started buying stuff like nose hair clippers and saying things in front of the mirror like, “How’d this strand of hair get so long on my fracking ear?”
3. On fitness charts my slant is headed down, i.e., the maximum heart rate during exercise is lower. Speaking of, my doctor recommends annual checkups and extra tests (still no colonoscopy for ten more years, thankfully). Of course, I’m also one of the rare 30-year-olds who can say he’s had two prostate tests. Not good times.
4. I’m not giving up my juvenile viewing habits of watching Anchorman and Team America over and over to make sure I memorize every funny quote.
5. No one will ever think I’m capable of being a lecherous haberdasher. (Okay, not that I ever sold men’s clothing, but doesn’t “haberdasher” deserve to have a better definition, something like, “someone who deliberately stirs up trouble” or “a guy destined to be running naked from a woman’s house when her husband comes home early?”)
6. I’m not really 30, by which I mean I’ve slept for well over 10 years. (Less than eight hours is for poor people.) If that doesn’t work, I say that like the new millennium didn’t really begin until 2001, my next decade doesn’t start until I’m 31.
7. I’m at the age most pro athletes are considered to have finished their prime and are headed downhill for the rest of their career. Unless they take steroids, then they’re good for another five to ten seasons until their testes fall off, their head swells so big no hat can be made for them and people start whispering about how they “pistol-whipped a guy asking for an autograph.”
8. It’s now near scientifically impossible to fit that many candles on a regular-sized cake. Not that the fire marshal would allow such a hazard.
9. I make up girlfriends all the time to look better to other people. Seriously, for no reason. I’ll be at Target and purchase Noxzema, the clerk says something innocuous about skin care and I’ll say, “yeah, my girlfriend has to have it.” Or at TCBY, “my girlfriend would kill me for not bringing home ice cream.” What the heck? Why? The people working there don’t care. I’ve even thought about buying a fake wedding band so that when I’m at movies or the mall alone, passersby won’t think I’m a freak. Which, naturally, makes me a freak. It's a vicious cycle.
10. Twenty-eight of my years have been spent anticipating new Star Wars movies, a few of which at the latter end were spent buying all the figures and vehicles that I once had in childhood. I love my Millennium Falcon, and you can’t take it from me!
11. I’m closer to my ten-year college reunion (May, 2007) than having attended my ten-year high school reunion (June, 2003).
12. I’ve been in the business world almost nine years. Only 40 more to go until retirement, unless Social Security goes bankrupt like we all expect. Then I’ll be fighting for scraps in the Coliseum against other old people and tigers.
13. The days of partying on rooftops with cases and cases of Bud and scantily clad women, finishing the late night downing pizza, pancakes or burgers (or all three) at IHOP are numbered. Now I’m expected to sip wine and dress nice during Martini Night at the local museum. Okay, so I’ve done neither and don’t care, but that’s not the point.
14. I can definitely say that I haven’t reached my age in sexual encounters. That’s a good thing, for sure, but I could use more stories of crazy chicks. C’mon, I only want one or two who will park outside my apartment at three in the morning, buy me stuffed animals that “look like” me and leave awkward voicemail messages. Let’s work on this, people!
15. The Braves have been division champions for half my lifetime.
16. Before every slice of pizza or buffalo wing I need to take a Pepcid. Later I have to down an entire bottle of Pepto Bismol and my trash can in the bathroom has a magazine, atlas and newspaper on top like I'm running a reference section of a library.
17. When filling out customer surveys I can’t click on the “Age: 25-29” box anymore. (Of course, at least now I get to click on the $50,000-$75,000 income box, so I figure we’re all square. Take that, handsome 26-year-old waiters! Sure, you get all kinds of women and hang out at parties with you and your buds, but … wait, where was I going with this and why am I suddenly sad?)
18. I’m a year closer to the inevitable talk behind my back by co-workers, friends and family, “Still single, eh? Maybe he’s gay.”
19. Reruns of “Thirtysomething” could suddenly make sense.
20. I still have a long way to go until I can shoot my age in a round of golf. However, I can at least reasonably shoot my age on nine holes of a simple course. By “simple” I mean “Putt-Putt.” I don’t get to play much anymore since once you turn 18 prices go up by about … let’s see, used to be two bucks, around here it’s at least thirty … carry the two … five trillion percent.
21. Now when I watch Logan's Run I’ll keep checking to see if my palm is flashing to alert the authorities that I’m too old for their civilization and should enter Carousel or find Sanctuary with that Ankh necklace.
22. Advertisers have written me off as a target because I’m settled into my brands when making purchases. I don’t care if Kraft makes mac & cheese. Is it more expensive than the Publix brand? Then see ya! But I refuse to drink Pepsi products. It just ain’t right.
23. There have been six presidents in my lifetime, only two of whom ruled for 12 years under the party represented by an ass. That leaves 18 good years of ranting at the liberal news whackos trying to bring down my beloved leaders.
24. By age 30 … Ben Franklin had regularly published “Poor Richard’s Alamanac,” purchased The Pennsylvania Gazette, printed the currency for New Jersey and been appointed Postmaster of Philadelphia … John Wayne had already appeared in 76 movies … Albert Einstein had already come up with E = mc(squared) and the Theory of Relativity … Caligula was emperor of the Roman Empire, went crazy and was killed, all by age 28 … Pamela Anderson long before was a Playboy centerfold, captivated audiences with “Baywatch” and then killed her acting career with Barb Wire … Michelangelo a year before finished the statue of David … Michael Jordan won his third NBA title, led the Dream Team to the gold medal in the ’92 Olympics, already named NBA MVP three times and led the league in scoring seven times.
25. Toys I played with as a kid are retro and back in style. (Transformers and Care Bears, to name two. Uh, not that I had any Care Bears, because that would be gay. Optimus Prime would not approve.) Similarly, I find myself regaling youths about stories of “back in my day.”
26. Based on past patterns, I will be 115 when the Red Sox win the World Series again. But they will lose the Series when I’m 57, 78, 86 and 97.
27. One year closer to that blissful time when I can wear socks with sandals and not give a rat’s a** what anyone thinks.
28. At church I'll be “graduating” into the 30s and 40s singles class made up mostly of bitter man-hating women who blame any guy in their path for their lack of being married, getting divorced or being left at the altar. They’re carrying so much baggage they have to check it under the plane before flights.
29. I’m expected to shave every day and practice what sticklers call “hygiene.”
30. Let’s leave on a positive: I can date 40 year-old-women and their 20-year-old daughters!