Tomorrow I hit the big 3-2. 32. It sounds so grown-up when I have to admit that's my age, but in reality, eh...no big deal.
When I turned 29, I was an emotional wreck. I was pretty certain that was going to be the last year of my life, socially speaking. No more would I have any fun. I would have to become an adult, as my thirties were looming around the corner, waiting to spoil everything. I was depressed and sullen leading up to that birthday and for a few months later. When I turned 30 the following year, it was no big deal. I had already spent all the energy the previous year on being depressed that I had nothing left, so I just rolled with it. The universe didn't imploded, I didn't suddenly wake up to mom hair; everything was as it was the day before. And although that year started out EXTREMELY rough on the personal end, it looked up quickly. (Funny, add a bunch of mini-crisis to the mix and turning 30 is a walk in the park.)
So now I'm faced with 32. On one hand, it doesn't bother me at all. I'll still be the same immature jackass as I always am. On the other, I'm beginning to hear my biological clock, which is amusing considering I already have two kids. I'm going to let that one just roll and clock it up to hormones.
My point is...30s are not as bad as we tend to make them out to be. I haven't felt any pressure to measure up to some standard since turning 30, and even if I did I'm the sort of person that tends to shrug those off. I know I'm always going to love video games and despise scrap-booking, and love horror movies and shudder at romantic-comedies and chick-flicks. None of that will change because of a mere number that's supposed to mean something more than how many rotations around the sun I've been here.
Let's do this, 32!

I was reading this article on NPR entitled "Can You Tell Your Life Story In Exactly Six Words?", in which they discussed a book called It All Changed in an Instant . It All Changed in an Instant is a collection of 6-word memoirs from the famous and well-known. At the end of the article, the question is asked to the audience to share their 6-word memoir.

I looked at this challenge as I tend to look at all generic/non-personal challenges: completely unnecessary, and yet I am compelled to indulge, thanks to that whole crazy part in my head that keeps me from letting go.
But this is a memoir we're talking about here. Not something to be casually balked at and haphazardly tossed around. If that was the case, I could merely toss out something like "I ate too much cheese today" and be done with it. (That is actually a true story. I ate too much cheese today. And I'm lactose-intolerant. Hilarity ensues. Curse you, dairy gods.)
No. This is a MEMOIR. I needed to do some seriously soul reflection as I thought about all my life's experiences; all the heartaches, the joys, the obstacles, the epic wins.
And then it came to me.
A phrase to sum it all up. To sum ME up.

Where did I put my pants?

Chalking this one up as a big success.

Unless you've been living as a hermit the past 24 hours, you know that the perhaps biggest thing on television last night was the Lost season premiere. I've only been into the show since last season, meaning I've managed to avoid the fact that the show existed at all. Not a difficult thing for me to do; actually, I suck at watching TV. I have commitment issues. Saying that every certain day at a certain time, I'll be watching a specific show is too much of a commitment for me. If there wasn't a dvr in my life, I'd never watch tv, and even that doesn't always work.
(My related articles side bar on my dashboard tells me a certain contest show that shits out questionably talented singers had more ratings. Phooey.)
Anyway, a year back or so, I decided to watch the Lost pilot. It kept me interested, so I kept watching, every day, multiple episodes a day, during the course of a really boring work season, until I was up-to-date for the current season. I like that sort of arrangement, because I can tell cliffhangers to go to hell. When I'm current on a show, I have to wait like everyone else.
So the point of all this was...Lost was on last night. All plot twists and supposed alternate realities and questions aside, I was elated to see the return of a minor character - a character commonly referred to as "Frogurt". I believe that was a Sawyer-generated nickname, and by far the best.

Frogurt is kind of a dick.

I'm not the only one that thinks he was one of the best minor characters:

Frogurt alone should be reason enough to watch Lost.

As many of my (mis)adventures so often go, this particular foray into the world wide web began with a string of tangents. I started on my brother's blog and was scanning his "liked" links. Despite my nerdom, I haven't spent nearly enough time on Topless Robot as perhaps I should. I was clicking through posts and came across this diddy - Cobra Commander Is Waiting to Talk to You. Hilarious, as is the Cobra Commander tumblr site, Cobra takeover. This all led me to Chatroulette, a site I have never been to...not one for chatting online to random people. Not since about 2000-2001ish. Even then was a stretch. But this...was magnificent. You vs stranger. Click for a new random person. I was still not in for the chatting. I was on a personal mission to find Cobra Commander. Alas, I did not find him this time. Ah well. I came across a cam focused on a picture of Toshio Saeki (creepy dead kid from The Grudge), which freaked my shit out. There was a creepy mannequin/mask thing and plenty of stills done in Microsoft Paint asking for a boob flash. As I clicked refresh again and again, I tried to think of something witty to say, but I was drawing blanks. Plus, that requires chatting. And effort.

In other news, I need to really get more sleep.

As for you, Cobra Commander: One day we shall me. I am certain of it.

YEOW!

Image via Wikipedia