Push-ups

So I was hanging out with my very lovely lady this weekend, and I was feeling pretty good about myself.  Not only was I having a great and relaxing weekend, but I was having a pretty good body image day.  Like most of us, there are days where I feel fat, even though I'm told I'm not.  My BMI is right where it should be and I run in the warm weather months, but I'm always looking for ways to improve my appearance (and since society frowns on people wearing brown paper bags on their heads all the time....)  One thing I've been doing quite a bit of lately is weightlifting, and I can start to tell a difference.  So I was hanging out with my gf, and I decided I would be all impressive.  She had to leave the room for a second and I wanted to make sure I was doing push-ups when she came back because in my simple mind, I would think this would look impressive.  I could tell she was "mildly" impressed, so I decided to up the ante.  I asked her if she would let me try doing a push-up with her on my back.  Now, I requested that if I was able to do a push-up with her on my back, I wanted her to brag to all her friends that I had done so.  If I was unable to do this, I pleaded she keep it a secret for the rest of her life.  With a rush of testosterone through my veins, I was able to do a push-up with all of her 114lbs on my back.  I believe her mild level of being impressed shot all the way up to moderate level.

My first beer

I pretty much have the pallet of a four year old, and thus tend to go for sweet drinks. The other night, I was hanging out with Victoria and I was having a fruity drink. So fruity in fact that the cap of the twist off bottle looked to be pink. I caught this look from Victoria that I had never seen before…was I about to become a man? Indeed I was, as she wanted me to drink my first beer.

The beer that night was a Boulevard Wheat beer. I've tasted beer before and never really liked it, much less drank a whole one for myself. Deciding to not let my manhood come into my question from my girlfriend, I accepted the challenge and knew what I had to do. I started to drink my beer. I would liken the experience to drinking that beer to taking off a band-aid very slowly. As the hours passed, the level of liquid slowly but surely decreased. Finally, I was able to finish off the last of the beer and I slammed it down with a manly stroke. Instantly, I felt chest hair starting to sprout on my chest. I had become a man, or at least a high school sophomore.

The bet

Ever since I have been with my girlfriend, I have reassessed my eating habits. In some ways, I'm not sure why I am doing this, as I have oft accused her of eating like a Democrat, but nonetheless, I have admired the way she can actually eat, survive, and enjoy vegetables. I have a hard time believing anyone would chose to love vegetables on their own. I believe a "like" of them is often drilled into us as children. In this case, my brother and I had a stronger will than our mother, and she finally concluded it would be easier to make food without including them in recipes. Now that I'm thirty, I wonder if it is too late in my life to learn how to like them. I was out on a date with my girlfriend the other night, and we went to Applebees for dinner. When our food came, there was a large (by my standards) side of cook vegetables that came with it. Now normally, I would consider these vegetables as worthless as garnish, but I decided to test my new and maturing adult ways of expanding my horizons. I made a bet with my girlfriend that I could eat all of my vegetables. Seeing that we are natural high rollers, we made the bet for a dollar. As I started eating the evil concoction of zucchini, broccoli, carrots, and who know what else, I for the first time in my life understood what true pain was. In an attempt to make the experience more bearable, I smothered all the vegetables in A1 steak sauce, but not even my old trusted friend A1 could take away all the pain. Using all that I had, I finished off my vegetables and stood over my defeated plate in triumph as I collected my dollar!

The day that was my birthday

I have to admit, I've had a case of the birthday blues today. It is a combination of it being the big 3-Oh!, being tired, and having a chance to reflect on my life. Not long ago, I showed Victoria the video of my first birthday. In looking at it, I had a chance to see a lot of family members that are no longer with us. In watching it (and in watching my brothers). its funny to see how my personality was starting to emerge even at that early age. I was very interested in the people around me and the conversations they were having. Instead of eating my cake, you saw me looking and pointing at my surroundings. This is very much like I am today. I love being involved with people. If you watch my brother, he is pretty much interested in eating his cake.

Many of the staff at work wised me a happy birthday, and Victoria made this a wonderful birthday weekend. Yet, I found myself kind of moping around work, again because I was tired and because I was not thrilled about my odometer rolling over as it were. Along with the staff wishing me a happy birthday, they were also talking about a former student at our school who was killed in an auto accident this weekend. I believe he was only 27. In listening to this, I felt down right ashamed for basically complaining about being alive for one more day. After I left work, I gave myself a swift kick in the butt and I decided to embrace the day. My mom and dad called me and wished me a happy birthday (my mom did at 4:10, the time I was born), and I had a chance to talk to Victoria as well. All in all, I'm very happy to be alive. In the spirit of being older however, I was showing some kids this morning how I could jump. I went to jump up and touch the rim in the gym and I think I pulled something in my back.

30

Tomorrow, October 5th, 2009, I will turn 30. Should I be happy; should I be sad? I have to say I have mixed emotions about this one. I have some wonderful people telling me how great your 30s are. Indeed, something tells me that someone in their 30s are treated with more respect, especially in the business world. And honestly, I don't feel like I am "30"; I feel the same that I've always felt. On October 17, I will be running a marathon, and people have this shocked look on their face when they find out I'm turning 30, saying they would have guessed 25. My girlfriend Victoria says she loves the fact that I'm turning 30...noting that no matter what happens, I'll always be 3 1/2 years older than her (?!?!?!?!?). I tend to not make a big deal about my birthday as a general rule, wishing instead people would make a big deal about National Systems Administrator's day (see here). All things being equal, things are absolutely awesome right now, so if this is what my 30s are going to be like, they are going to kick my 20s tail :)