My Twenties: 1999-2009
My Twenties, the period of my life best remembered for hosting such impressive accomplishments as finishing college and appearing as an extra in an Amanda Bynes movie, died yesterday when I turned Thirty. It was a slow, painful, agonizing death marked by pockets of extreme regret and pointed shame (I still can’t believe I went to that They Might Be Giants concert—what was I thinking?).
Already, the world seems different. I went to the grocery store this morning where I noticed Pepsi has a brand new super-futuristic logo. It almost looks like a feminine hygiene product now. The brand of orange juice I buy suddenly features a small, bulbous plastic orange as its cap. What the hell is that about? Most confusing of all, everyone else in the store was wearing clothes. Jesus H. When did Brooklyn go puritan? When I move to a nudist colony, I expect it to stay nude for at least five to ten years.
I shall not let this startling trip to Food Dimensions (yes, that’s the actual name of the grocery store in my neighborhood) bring me too far down, though. In this age of Obama, I must remain optimistic. Thirtysomething will be a grand time. You know what they say—thirty is the new twenty. I guess that means I can look forward to backpacking across Europe, falling into massive credit card debt, and growing apart from the people who helped shape and enrich my youth.
Fuckin’ a, dude! Bring thirty on. I’m ready for it. I can smell what Three Oh is cookin’. Smells like gumbo (gumbo is the stuff that smells like old tires and fear, isn’t it?).
P.S. – No one had my twenties in the death pool.