I turned thirty last Sunday.
If you’re still in your twenties (I remember those halcyon days!) you may wonder if thirty really feels any different. Ah, the naivete of youth. Of course it’s different as a tricenarian. Among other things:
- Overwhelming urge to purchase monocle and velocipede, vote for Grover Cleveland
- Formally renamed to “Brion the Grey”
- Automatically given six-month trial subscription to AARP Jr.
- Taken aside and taught elaborate five-part secret handshake
- Now 8% more racist
- Bulk discount on birthday candles
- Legally permitted to be U.S. senator under article I, section 3 of the Constitution
- Navel-length salt-and-pepper beard
- Now believe that the world is world is worse off currently (when I am reading the news) than how I remember it when I was a kid (when I was not reading the news and mostly playing with Legos)
- One year left of being trusted by the “don’t trust anyone over thirty” crowd, depending on precise definition of “over thirty”
- Distrustful of all new technology since 2010 (looking at you, Vine)
- New outlook on the youth:
Just kidding. I thought the children were wrong when I was a child, too.