30/30

Today begins the final thirty days of my thirties.

In my forties I shall endeavor to assume a means of comportment appropriate to an wizened experienced gentleman like myself. Certain demeanors require a little authentic weathering, a musty decadence, that the youth, and their cartoonish attempts at facial hair, simply cannot appropriate despite their feigning and fawning efforts.

Old is old motherfuckers. You can't fake it.

Oh no, you can't take that away from me.

But. Thirty days.  Dios Mio! I can have a lot of fun in thirty days. Yes I can.