Today is my 40th birthday and when you reach such a milestone it’s common to reflect on the past, consider the future, and offer up some pearls of wisdom. Well, you ain’t gonna find any of that crap here. Look, I’m 40, big deal. Either you’ve turned 40 yourself and know that it’s no big deal, or (God willing) you’ll get to 40 someday. Don’t get me wrong, I spent some time today soul-searching, introspecting, and fetal-position-rocking. I’m just not gonna bore you with those pathetic details.

Last night I went to a pub with my buddy Rick to watch Utah beat up Alabama, and around 10pm our friends Cathy and Emily surprised me by showing up. Being malevolent agents of pain they insisted on buying shots when midnight struck and, even worse, insisted that I drink them. I don’t recall how many shots I did but let’s just say I wasn’t operating at 100% for most of my big day. Though I really did enjoy laying on the couch and dozing while Pitt blew out Georgetown. Not that I watched much of it, as I napped away my mild hangover. I should say that all those beers weren’t mine, just…most of them:

Tonight I went to dinner with my folks and, when you think about it, a birthday really should be a big day for the PARENTS, not the kid. I mean, I don’t remember JACK about January 3, 1969. I was only a few seconds old! Then a few minutes old! Then a few hours…you get the point. But my parents were there for the birth of their first child and that’s kind of a big thing. So at dinner I asked them, “So, are you freaked about having a 40-year-old kid?”

“I lie about your age,” Mom said.

“I’m just glad that I’m less than twice as old as you,” Dad said. “You’re catching up fast.”

It was MY birthday but of course Mom and Dad (and everyone else) was far more interested in my nephew Justin. Who is, to be fair, a lot more interesting. Our waitress asked how old he was and Carolyn said, “Fifteen months”.

“I’m 480 months old today,” I muttered under my breath as everyone cooed over the showoff. But a steak and some good red wine soon brightened my mood. With dinner finished we all walked to our cars, and I thanked my folks for celebrating a day that was filled with stress and considerable discomfot for my Mom. “You know what I remember about that day?” Mom said. “They brought us something to eat and for dessert I had crème brûlée, and I’d never had that before and it was so GOOD. It made the whole day worth it!”

So there you have it–my 40th birthday and the big star of that day was some custard and burnt caramel. Any wonder that egotism isn’t among my many faults?

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