52

Today marks the occasion of completing my 52nd revolution around The Sun. I am rolling downhill towards geezerville and my brakes aren’t working.

Last week, I went for an eye exam and had to order two new pair of glasses, one for distance and another for reading. While running for the bus, I sprained my knee. I think I did so because I’m carrying too much weight. I thought the loss of my hair would have helped in that regard, but obviously not enough. Before I hurt my knee, my neck was killing me. You know why? I was carrying a load of laundry down to the basement and I coughed. That’s all I did. But, somehow, that made something go “crack” in my neck. Once my knee started hurting, I shifted my weight so as to take pressure off of it and that seems to have cured my neck. I’m waiting, with great anticipation, to see what sort of disaster might cure my knee.

I expect it could be when I have all but two of my bottom teeth yanked in a couple of months.

Decrepit, thy name is Suldog.

To celebrate my birthday, this morning I was supposed to have had my mouth filled with gelatinous purple goop. The dentist was going to put it there in order to take an impression of my lower gums. When he strips my gears sometime in April or May, the impression he takes will be used to make me a temporary denture. I’ll wear that until later in the year, when – after my gums have completely healed from the extractions – another dentist will slice me open, drill into my jaw, and jam a couple of titanium rods into the bone. And then, in another five or six months, I’ll get my new permanent teeth. I expect it will be just in time for some sort of disabling disease to have killed me, but I’ll make sure the mortician props my mouth open with a smile when he lays me out. This is costing me too much for those teeth not to be seen.

Just kidding about dying, of course. I’m not planning on shedding this mortal coil any time soon. Well, at least not until Wife Swap is canceled. I vow I’m going to outlive that piece of dreck.

Well, that went by the boards when we got 8 inches of snow last night. The dentist's office called yesterday evening and canceled my appointment. What a wimpy dentist! Why, back in the day, we used to pull our own teeth by tying a string around the tooth and then tying the other end of the string to a mastodon's rear leg. Then we'd yell, "Look, mastodon! There's a female mastodon just over the other side of the tar pits giving you the eye! Hubba-Hubba!" Mastodons were very gullible. And when the mastodon charged off to make whoopee, your tooth went with him, unless you had really strong teeth and a very weak mastodon, in which case you got his leg. It was all good.

Getting back to my body, everything between my nipples and my thighs seems to be working well. I’m cautiously optimistic that I can continue being a randy old sot.

My fingers are as flexible as ever, so I can play the bass about as well as I ever could, but it appears that not too many of you think that’s a good thing, if the tepid response to Hellbop is any indication. Oh, well. Babe Ruth struck out hundreds of times, so I suppose I’m allowed ONE.

(That’s as humble as I’m willing to get. I was going to go with the "nobody appreciated Van Gogh when he was alive, either" style of bitching, but who wants to hear that sort of stuff from a bald, toothless git with a crinkly neck and a limp? Anyway, until I get my new glasses, I can’t see well enough to block any bricks thrown at me, so I’m laying low.)

Happy birthday to me!

(This has been about as obvious an attempt at soliciting sympathy comments as has ever been attempted on teh interwebs. However, it was rather masterfully constructed, if I do say so myself – and I do – so I expect every single one of you to give me an "Aw! Poor Baby!" or stunningly original equivalent thereof. If you don’t, I’ll come to your house and play my bass.)

(Oh, OK, I'm definitely overblowing the response to the song. Some of you were extremely nice about it. I'm only going to go to the houses of those who didn't dig it, so you're safe.)

Soon, with more old fart whining.

Extra Special Addendum: This morning, MY WIFE gave me a present. We are going to the Bruins game tomorrow night. That in itself is nice, but get this: I'm going to be riding the Zamboni between periods! Those of you with no idea what a Zamboni is can get your minds out of the gutter. It is the machine they use to clean the ice between periods of a hockey game, and that's why there is a picture of one up above. This is about as cool (little pun intended) as it gets. I will give you the whole story come Wednesday.

Oh, one more thing. An interview of me has been posted at this place. Go there, give me a birthday sympathy vote.