A Random Image
 

Jett Superior laid this on you on || February 18, 2002 || 2:29 am

To the grocery store for fresh cilantro and lime (because everybody with a lick of sense knows that Mexican food ain’t shit without some fresh cilantro and lime or lemon) the other day. As I was checking out the clerk was asking me my driver’s license info and I rattled off number and birthdate. As soon as the birthdate departed my tongue I was smacked with the realization that this year I will be thirty-one. Thirty-one….already? Really???

While all around me my pals from high school were freaking the fuck out, thirty didn’t phase me. Left not one scratch on me. I laughed at everyone else’s silliness.

I don’t think I’m freaking out, and I don’t especially think I will, but T-h-i-r-t-y O-n-e. It’s ominous, because it means I am travelling ahead to forty. Holy Mother of God.

I left the store a tad dazed and disoriented..

Some thirty minutes later, Scout and I were digging through all the Valentine’s clearance crap at Wal-Mart, chucking printed tissue paper and spools of ribbon and cute little plastic containers shaped like Chinese carry-out boxes into our buggy with unhurried abandon. If we are nothing else, clearance mavens we are.

As I was examining adorkable little floaty candles that I could purchase for a whopping 10% of their pre-holiday value Scouty wandered four feet away and struck up a conversation with a school acquaintence. As I fondled a big heart-shaped cookie pan I happened to hear school acquaintence ask, “Is that your mom or your sister?”

Bite me, thirty-one, and get thee behind me oh Fear Of Aging! I have fooled the youth into thinking that I, semi-veteran of life and its glorious pursuits, am even yet one of them! In doing so, I have vowed to make a worn-in pair of Levi’s, my Cult shirt, Doc Martens, no makeup and hair pushed back into a sloppy bun my standard uniform.

Nobody worked it out »

Don´t be shy. Lay it on me.

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