Happy Birthday to me again... 2011

Well now, I’m not sure who else among you is out there. But hey, here I am again. I’m not sure for how long, nor for how often, but I’m back.

Just came home from another all-you-can-eat dinner with a bunch of guys who can no longer afford to eat all they can or they get sick, weak, and die. Dinner was on me since I just turned 38 yesterday. Another dinner filled with old friends, old jokes, old stories, a few new reactions to those old stories, and pretty much just sitting there glad to be reminded that there are things in the world that haven’t really changed all that much. Sometimes that’s the biggest thing old friends do anyways. So happy birthday to me. Whoopee.

Seriously. Whoopee. Pardon me for excluding exclamation points here, but I really am happy today.

I take stock of my life and I have absolutely nothing to complain about except being 5 foot 5 inches. And even that is solved by an old pair of Nike Shox, along with looking for shorter people to hang out with.

Life still isn’t perfect, but it really shouldn’t be anyways. You just have to keep staying interested, as well as hoping and working to make things better. You stop doing that, you’re a zombie.

* * * * * * * *

After turning myself in to be dragged around the Medical City like a lab rat for the better part of Friday, celebrity doctor Oyie Balburias hands me the proverbial clean bill of health today. I’d be jumping for joy if my knees weren’t so shot, and I wasn’t at least 20 pounds overweight.

Had my teeth cleaned last Saturday, then a haircut. Spent the rest of the entire weekend drifting through town with the wifey and the kid. Margaret’s starting ballet this week, and the wifey’s just learned to cook up Spanish food. So what me worry? Absolutely nothing.

Whoever you are, welcome back to Broken Record.

‘catch you later.