Some time tomorrow I turn 31 years old. This is an earthshaking bit of news, to be sure. My plans currently include dinner at Outback Steakhouse tomorrow night and, er, not working Saturday or Sunday.

Yes, that’s it. I hasten to point out that this still beats any number of prior birthdays, thank you.

I was going to engage in some soul-searching, but I took a peek in there and realized that there’s nothing pretty to be found. So you’re all spared that agony. Count that among your blessings.

Here’s to another year survived, and a future twelve months of the same goofy crap I’ve filled my life with the past twelve.

Oh yeah: If by chance some rich person ends up here, I’d like to direct them to my Amazon.com Wishlist. Thank you.