30

What’s up pussycat? Tom Jones turns 66 tomorrow.

Whilst I turn 30.

Tom Jones is loaded, and loved by women the world over. I’m not loaded, but I do have grey ear hair that forced me into a plucking situation I’d rather have avoided.

Them’s the breaks when the years tick by. It does seem as though the lame portions of aging are happening a bit early, though. How come I’m on the brink of achieving full-on senior citizen ear hair, but so much farther away from retirement? It doesn’t quite seem fair.

We’re currently buying a house much sooner than we expected, which is a great thing, except for the part where we have to move for the second time within sixth months. Good god, there was a Princess in town and we didn’t even have the time to hang out. Not being able to hang out or post or read posts leads me to the obvious conclusion that we’re too busy, but sometimes that shit is unavoidable.

Kind of like turning 30.

I’m moving to a different work schedule which should be a bit more relaxed, meaning some (hopefully) more frequent posts. Hell, I just want the time to read a few because life is awfully depressing without a daily dose of inebriated bloggers.

Inebriated bloggers that we’ll see in a month. Fuckin’ A.