Birthday Week

I don't know how it happened but I turned 30. I'm not happy about it.

Somehow the guy that has a blog about three day hangovers, about staying up all night, step by step instructions on how to ghost a chick, detailed accounts of drug and alcohol benders...

I can't believe it either.

I suppose I'm not actually 30 yet. I still have about two weeks of telling girls at the bars I'm in my 20's, two weeks of feeling OK about flirting with Seniors in college because half my age plus 7 is 22 if I round down and of course two weeks of planning my funeral aka 30th birthday.

I have a storied history of botching important birthdays.

In 1997 for my 10th birthday my friend Todd Wollack invited me to a taping of the Reggie Miller show. I came down with horrendous strep throat and had to miss the taping. I remember watching on TV and crying when Todd got to ask Reggie a question. Todd asked Reggie if he knew our mutual friend Drew Storen.

'Ya I know Drew!'

Jesus, what a stupid fucking question Todd.

Years later, when I was a Pacers ball boy I would often tell Reggie this story during his pregame warm ups.

"I don't get it," he would always say. "You get to see me like twice a week now. You know how many kids would kill to rebound for me? I gave you a pair of shoes last week, who cares about a stupid local talk show?"

I cared Reggie.

In 2005, I spent my 18th birthday in Virginia skiing Snowshoe Mountain with my two best friends on the Cathedral Ski Trip. All we wanted to do all day was ski and then smoke black and milds in the hot tub as 18 year olds are wont to do. Of course I left my driver's license in Indiana.

In 2008, my first night in Italy studying abroad, I turned 21, not that they give a fuck in Italy, but I gave a fuck. I made a Tri Delt make me a shot paddle and I drank all god dam 21 of those shots before we even left our hotel. I then proceeded to fall down the stairs of noted shitty Florence night club YAB (You are Beautiful) and got detained in a coat closet until they could find one of my friends to carry me home.

The point is (aside from lots of humble bragging) that I'm almost certainly going to fuck up my 30th. If we go to Vegas I'll probably pull a Jarret Stoll. If we go to Mammoth, I will almost certainly break an ankle and die on the mountain. Part of me thinks maybe I should just go the bars, black out and wake up on the floor of my apartment like I always do. Birthdays suck, the people that make a big deal out of them suck worse and at this point, who the hell wants to come celebrate a new decade of my terrible behavior?

Then one day I was driving around listening to Pardon My Take when noted 'scrappy' running back Danny Woodhead was the guest. After fucking around for a while Big Cat and PFT brought up the idea of 'Birthday Week.'

I turned the dial a little louder as I was turning into the Universal lot with 15 writers' lunches.

As it turns out Big Cat, PMT and Danny Woodhead were all born within a week of each other, the last week in January. I cocked my eye because I too am born the last week in January...the 29th to be exact. My 30th birthday would be the Super Bowl this year if it weren't for the asinine bye week to air the Pro Bowl and allow the media proper time to get to Houston.

Big Cat and PMT will be spending the week prior to the Super Bowl partying it up in Houston the week before the big game and everything hit me at once in an astounding moment of clarity...

My purpose on this earth is and always has been to join Big Cat, PFT and Danny Woodhead (and of course Hank) at birthday week 2017.

So please esteemed hosts of Pardon My Take, hear this as my feeble plea to join you on your adventure. I don't bring a ton to the table. I'm tall so I can reach things, that's an underrated talent. I also have a history of sleeping in horrible conditions so I wouldn't mind sleeping on the floor or sharing a cot with Hank. I've been told that I'm a somewhat good hang and I rarely say no to anything.

You would also get the full power of the following behind this blog, a pathetic 400 readers, but that's conceivably 400 new award winning listeners to keep that pesky Bill Simmons podcast at bay on the sports charts. Also by adding a fourth birthday guy we would be upping the birthday swag by 33%.

Maybe we could make PMT shirts that all said "Blow me, it's my birthday" and then there was a little cupcake with a candle on it. It's a hilarious double entendre, the people in Houston would love it. Full disclosure, we may get sued. I stole that idea from a bar in Bloomington. You know what? Fuck it, the management there liked me, I'm sure they would let it fly.

I've never been to Houston but I'm sure we could get into a fair amount of trouble and have a good time. Maybe this is just the break I need for my entire writing career to take off, it sure has the feel of a movie doesn't it? Unemployed writer takes too much Adderall on a Wednesday afternoon and invited himself to the Super Bowl with his favorite podcast hosts? I bet @Kcrittenberger would watch it.

Anyway, I'm rambling. Long story short I'm appealing to your senses of spontaneity. Wouldn't it be hilarious to bring some random dude from Venice Beach to birthday week? I mean what is the worst that could happen? Some connecting the dots, some locker room talk? I suppose we could all get arrested, but that would probably make for a better story anyway right? Think of it as a good deed. A Make A Wish for some idiot who is finally going to be forced to enter adulthood after this week. You do this one thing for me and I'll promise not to suck.

In closing, I do not wash my apples. The most famous person in my phone is Mindy Kaling, but there is a better chance Ike Barinholtz will answer. Cheers boys, hope to see you in Texas.