In the interest of not having several thousand people at my party, I've put together a short list of folks who aren't invited. If you're on this list, please don't come to the party. Or, if you insist, come to the party and see if Fuggles the Cat will let you in (she tends to be more forgiving than me).
1. Lance Armstrong. Seriously, just go away.
2. Jessica Simpson. Okay, you can come...IF YOU PUT OUT ANOTHER SONG EVER!
3. Tony Stewart. You know, there was a time when you would've been welcome, but then you got that insane affectation of a fight-starter and now it's just dumb.
4. Bill Clinton. Oh, man, don't get me started.
5. Levi Leipheimer. No offense, but I just don't think you'll add much fun to the party.
6. Anyone from that new reality show about DC. Please. This is for real. Don't come. Even Fuggles doesn't like you.
7. Bill Kristol. This is mostly for your own good, Bill. Every time I see you on TV all I can think about is how you're one of the few people who I could whip in a fight, and I just don't want to be tempted.
8. Amanda Palin. Obviously, you like to party, but I don't think having 17-year-olds at the party is a good idea.
That's the whole list. For everyone else, see you on Saturday!
Showing posts with label pretentious. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pretentious. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
A la recherche du temps perdu
Has it been too long since my last melancholy blog post? Yes?
Turning 30 is mostly a pleasant experience, especially since 30 doesn't seem especially old to a 29 year old. But, there is something jarring to the fact that I've been around for just short of 30 years and really don't remember very much of it. For instance, what did I do on my 14th birthday? Anything? Is there any way to know? I'm sure I went out to eat with my dad (a family tradition), but I certainly can't remember where we went, much less what we talked about.
Then, I think about all those people who must've been at my 7th birthday party. Who were they? And, what happened to them? It's amazing that I've met so many hundreds, even thousands, of people who I've enjoyed, people who have touched my life in some not-insignificant way, and I have no idea who they are.
Of the people I do remember, I'm shocked that so many of them have disappeared. Brett? Blair? Of course, in the age of Facebook, I suppose I could try to look these folks up, but I don't have a Facebook account (and I'm a student, so it's even more likely that I would have one than them). Even then, there must be several hundred people named "John Owens" out there, so I'm sure I'd never find the right guy.
And it's not just people from long ago! Friends from college have fallen off the face of the earth, which can only mean that people say the same thing about me: "Where did Richard go?"
Hopefully someone will find these people and tell them about my birthday party. Perhaps that dog from the end of Pynchon's Mason and Dixon is on his way to my house right now, sending me word from someone, so that I won't have to wonder anymore...
Turning 30 is mostly a pleasant experience, especially since 30 doesn't seem especially old to a 29 year old. But, there is something jarring to the fact that I've been around for just short of 30 years and really don't remember very much of it. For instance, what did I do on my 14th birthday? Anything? Is there any way to know? I'm sure I went out to eat with my dad (a family tradition), but I certainly can't remember where we went, much less what we talked about.
Then, I think about all those people who must've been at my 7th birthday party. Who were they? And, what happened to them? It's amazing that I've met so many hundreds, even thousands, of people who I've enjoyed, people who have touched my life in some not-insignificant way, and I have no idea who they are.
Of the people I do remember, I'm shocked that so many of them have disappeared. Brett? Blair? Of course, in the age of Facebook, I suppose I could try to look these folks up, but I don't have a Facebook account (and I'm a student, so it's even more likely that I would have one than them). Even then, there must be several hundred people named "John Owens" out there, so I'm sure I'd never find the right guy.
And it's not just people from long ago! Friends from college have fallen off the face of the earth, which can only mean that people say the same thing about me: "Where did Richard go?"
Hopefully someone will find these people and tell them about my birthday party. Perhaps that dog from the end of Pynchon's Mason and Dixon is on his way to my house right now, sending me word from someone, so that I won't have to wonder anymore...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
