I do not you to tell me that I’m not a cat.

I still don’t know what this blog is about. But “growing up” has been a pretty major theme. I turned 30 in September, and it’s been weird. I mean, it was weird before. But it’s weird in new ways now.

By the way, I don’t think I was posting back then, so here’s a recap of my amazing 30th birthday:
September 19th. New girlfriend almost made me cry with extremely thoughtful and/or handmade gifts. Out to bar and then a different bar with friends and coworkers and new girlfriend. Got really drunk, for really cheap. A bunch of separate friends were meeting for the first time, and everyone loved each other. Saw some boobs (tits, breasts) that I didn’t expect to. Sucked on some other boob that I didn’t expect to. Brought the party home. Tried to invite some creepy crack-dealing type back with us, but friends didn’t let me. Kept drinking, didn’t need to. Passed the fuck out. Great.
September 20th. Woke up to awesome blowjob. Walked to restaurant for breakfast with girlfriend. Puked violently in bathroom while waiting for food. Went home to take a nap. Got up and drove to somewhere I can’t remember with girlfriend. Stopped home to roll two massive joints. Drove downtown to eat dinner at Quizno’s. Walked across the street to watch The Flaming Lips climb out of a giant psychedelic vagina and start shredding Sweet Leaf by Black Sabbath. Rest of show was too cool to describe. Show was over, walked outside to find Keller Fountain had been bubble-flooded and was now swarming with hippies and happy weirdos. (There’s video footage at the link I just dropped, you should check it out.) Shared joints with hippies, went home, made sweet love, and passed the fuck out.

This is the Keller Fountain, one of my favorite places in the world.

Anyway. Being 30. How weird. I guess I’m having trouble with the whole… being-a-fucking-loser thing? Those are harsh words, but I sometimes feel like that’s how the world views people like me. 30 years old, shitty part-time job, no serious goals, broke most of the time, et cetera. I mean, I’m doing better than the guy who’s still living in his mom’s basement… but not by much. And if my mom wasn’t dead, who knows where I’d be living.

I have been in a rut lately, which is part of the reason why I stopped making excuses and started writing this ridiculous blog again. And I am doing a couple of other things, too. I mean. I have a couple of tricks up my sleeve. I always do. This post isn’t meant to be all doom and despair AT ALL. I’m just…. venting. Shit is weird when you turn 30. That’s all for now.

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About R. Spacely

Bastard.
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