Fuck, Am I Really 30?

Ok, so this weekend P has something in the works because on Monday The Mole is turning 30. 30, shit, guess I'll go to the Dr. on Monday and get the Viagra. You know, the passing of time is a pretty scary thing. Every day lived is another day closer to death, and death sucks. I mean lets face it, if you've read any of the ramblings of the past two years, I'm probably driving the bus to hell so death is really going to suck for me.

So, what will happen this weekend? I'm sure I'll ingest enough alcohol to kill a small horse, be brutally honest with a random fat chick, and piss all over myself. Later that night I'll be left in the car to steam in a coffin of sweat, whiskey, piss, vomit, beer, and Amp Energy Drink. Amp: The Offcial 2008 sponsor of Dale Jr's #88 Chevy Impala.

I guess looking back at the past 3 decades of my life I've had some ups and downs. I've passed out in my driveway dressed as Ali G only to wake up Sunday morning at 9am when people are leaving for church, and I'm an NCAA official. I've floated the Guadalupe River in leopard g-string (they leave funny tan lines), and managed to marry a chick that will love me no matter how much of an insufferable prick I can be.

I guess through all of the ups and downs over the past 30 years, life hasn't been too bad for the Mole. And who knows, over the next 30 years, maybe I can finally convince P to sleep with me so we have a kid; fingers crossed. Oh boy, I can't want to go from "that guy" to "that dad".

So anyway, Happy Birthday to me!!!!!!