"Like Father, Like Son".... "13 going on 30"....

Birthday time!

I’m turning 31, which really isn’t that big of a deal, until you starting thinking, “hey, I’m closer to 40 than I am to 20.” I’m closer to middle age than I am to my (not so) cool, hip college years. Yikes. When I was 16, I thought 20 was really old. And then I got to be 20, and I said no, 30 is really old. But now that I’m 31, I don’t know where the “old” line is drawn, but I think I’m close. I guess what defines to me that I’m old is this:

Anytime you see a movie where -- through a mysterious science experiment going wrong -- two people’s brains are transposed into each other bodies, there is usually one “younger” person and one “older person”. I am now at the point in life where I would no longer ever be the “younger” body person. I would always be the “older” body person. No one would pay 12 bucks to see my brain in a 50 year old body, but they might pony up the cash to see a movie where my brain is switched with a 15-year old….well, if it had a good supporting cast, I mean.

Once again, I prove myself to be a lame-o

I know my “cool-ness” is dwindling away. I can’t pass for twenty-something anymore. I’m definitely thirty-something now. Dang it.

I was walking through Circuit City the other day with a buddy of mine, and I didn’t know who a number of the “Hot New Artists” were that were featured in their “New CD” section. Strike one.

I don’t even shop at the cool mall stores much anymore. Most of my crummy clothes come from Target. I think I would feel ridiculous if I walked into an Abercrombie and Fitch. And what’s worse, I don’t even know if Abercrombie and Fitch is still cool. Strike two.

But the worst is that the other day, I was flipping through the channels on TV and some song came on I really liked, and I thought to myself, “Awesome. It’s good to know that I still like the stuff on MTV,” and then a few seconds later, I realized I was tuned into VH1. Strike Three.

Not in my mid to upper twenties anymore....

I can tell that I am getting older. Not just by the increasing number of grey hairs, but by my general surliness as well. And my choice of cereal.

I was in the breakfast aisle at Kroger the other day, looking for my current favorite cereal: Raisin Nut Bran. It’s really good, I recommend you try it sometime. Anyway, I looked up and down the shelves like three or four times and couldn’t find it (maybe a sign that my eyesight is getting bad too?), so I asked the worker lady to help me.

“Do you guys still sell Raisin Nut Bran?” I asked the lady.
“Hmm… which one is that?” I would have thought that the name itself would be enough clue, but evidently not.
“It’s the one with bran flakes and raisins and nuts in it.” I was a bit grouchy already. “The box is kind of yellow, or brown.”
“I don’t know, let me see…” so the lady starts to try to help me, but of course she’s worthless. “I see Grape Nuts and All-Bran,” she tells me, but that makes me even more upset. Finally, after about twenty seconds of looking with her, I get all mad and just go, “baaaah” and make this really old man-ish sound and wave my hand and walk away in disgust. Something I probably wouldn’t have done five years ago, but whatever.

I went and found Brandi in some other aisle and told her, “They don’t sell Raisin Nut Bran anymore. I hate this place. It’s run by communists.” Of course, she goes back and finds the Raisin Nut Bran in like three seconds, but that’s not the point….