Master Me

Weird choice for me. Who's Karen?

Well, it’s done. I turned forty. I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth and grabbed my seat cushion but nothing rattled, shook, or exploded. When I slowly opened my eyes, there was nothing different but a confused restaurant full of people staring at me. Turns out, forty came in like a llama lamb (and a chips and salsa appetizer).

Now, officially, I’m a MASTER. And who thinks I’d let THAT go without an insufferable blog post? In fact, who thinks there won’t be a SERIES of insufferable blog posts about how I’m a Master? If there’s one thing I’m a master of it’s the Master of Insufferability.

There are some things that will have to change now. For one, there will be a sharp decline in masturbation jokes. Even though the root word MASTER appears within it, I’m exercising considerable restraint here not to make a cheap chicken choke joke. See how I’ve grown? I’m not going to flog that joke at all even though every fiber of my being demands comeuppance. I’m going to five knuckle shuffle along to other topics…

I can’t remember what I was talking about* but….here’s some other things I know will change beginning today:

· I no longer know how to operate a DVR. Too bad because I have some good shit on there.
· I’m too old to make fart jokes on this blog. Fartlek included.
· I’m no longer a “wise ass”. Now I’m “wise”.
· I’m too old to blog.
· Ten years until I can join AARP!
· What’s a blog?
· Looking forward to arthritis. Er, too late.
· Do they make Metamucil flavored Gu?
· Time to shop for a Corvette, gold chain, and a midlife crisis!
· When’s Matlock on?
· Last week, the neighbor kids played in my yard. Now, the little hooligans are causing a disturbance and…GET OFF MY LAWN!
· I run exactly the same times but, suddenly, my age graded finish just jumped a few notches!
· A new word to snicker at: “infirm”
· Now that I think of it, why can’t I wear black socks with shorts while mowing the lawn? Just makes sense…less to wash.
· I’m going to run in Keds now. They are sensibly priced.
· Tried on some side split running shorts. Looked sharp. Bought them.
· Wow, didn’t think hair could grow there.

Mrs. Nitmos and the kids wined and dined me for my birthday this weekend in the fashion to which I’ve become accustom: dinner coupons and cheap bargain restaurant beer. Then, I was treated to several shows – all soccer games – where the filly and colt went a combined 3-0 and were not scored upon. Nothing says “birthday” like the scent of crushed tire mixed with artificial grass and the faint hope that the kids are actually enjoying this time and money sucking activity. Now go chase that black and white ball little filly! (Implied: Score goal or walk home.)

Starting now, this Quadragenarian runner already has plans to master the USATF All American Standards of Excellence for road racing as defined by the National Masters News. Why? Because that's what old people do to stay relevant. It's either that or shuffleboard. And they have a website and arbitrarily listed times. (shoulder shrug) Seems official. I’m a sucker for numbers. And I like a challenge. Especially a challenge I can already beat. Currently, I can best every one of the listed times. But can I do it in a knee brace (I have to get one of those, right?) while fretting over my 401k and kids’ non-existent college fund? I guess therein lies the challenge.

If you thought I couldn’t toss around any more arrogance on this blog, I bet you forgot all about this whole “Master” thing, didn’t you? Time to step it up a notch. Heck, I might even be able to lure our (largely) dormant friends Ian, Blogger Formerly Known As Vanilla, and RazZ, er, other blogger guy, back to regular blogging through their futile hopes to Take Me Down A Notch. If I can land those two fish, what would that make me?

A Master Baiter.

Happy….um, what time’s Bingo?

*First Alzheimers joke!