To discuss things I know at the age of 28

I can only assume you've all been wondering what I've been up to these past weeks since I last wrote. No? Not at all? Good, that means your life has been awesome.

But for those who still wonder, it's mostly been full of improv comedy. Like, a ton of it. Email me and I'll tell you more. There's more important stuff to get to...

I just turned 28, y'all/dudes/Muppets/ladies!

My birthday was Sunday. Unlike last year, I wasn't snowed inside. In fact, I wasn't even in Pennsylvania. I was in Chicago, watching and doing improv all weekend with my girlfriend (and also watching The Fighter*)

* That continued my man-crush on Mark Walhberg, but it's also just a fantastic movie. It made me want to become a boxer until I realized I couldn't take getting punched in the face, which seems to be a requirement.

I've learned a lot in the past year since I wrote my "Things I Know At Age 27" post. Let's find out things I now know at age 28.

* I will never be 27 again. Sure, that seems like a no-brainer, but when you're, say, 9, you don't realize you don't get to be 8 again.

* It's easier to get older as a guy.

* The Wonder Years hasn't stood the test of time as much as I wanted it to, but Boy Meets World has. I can accept that.

* All anyone can ask for is a steady job in a field they like, with people to share life with around that. Also, Shamrock milkshakes from McDonalds.

* I am extremely fortunate that I get to do a job I am good at and enjoy.

* I'm even more fortunate to have some talent that allows me to get paid to make people laugh. I find this ridiculous, but will not be telling that to the people signing the checks.

* It took me this many years to figure out what I really want to do with my life versus what I've always done with my life. As it turns out, you can't really know that at 21 or 22.

* Underwear is kinda silly if you think about it.

* Pay phones sure disappeared, right?

* As it turns out, most religions are rooted in plagiarism.

* People get too anxious over airport security. It's not complicated.

* But I still do not like metal detectors.

* The Oscars aren't really about who was the best as much as who has the best publicity push at the right time.

* 9/11 is still really weird and disturbing to think about with any degree of seriousness. A plane? Into a building?

* I think about things like property taxes, interest rates and depreciation way more now.

* I think about colors in nature, the way machines work and imaginary things way less now.

* I still get to play make-believe with improv comedy, though, and that's going to keep me young.

* My life goals are much more clear, and, better yet, much more attainable.

* Katy Perry will one day be looked back upon the same way we look at, say, Joan Jett in terms of cultural influence. Not sure what I think of that.

* I haven't wavered in my love of hip hop, years after it would be considered OK for a small-town white guy to like it. Favorites now include Drake, Rick Ross, Jay-Z, Lil' Wayne and Eminem. But now it's because of the lyrical word play.... OK, that and it's fun to pump the bass.

* But I have not, and likely never will, be able to make it rain.

* I still love Radiohead.

* I still weigh about the same as I did at age 18, and in fact can fit in the same jeans. I also know those days can't possibly last forever.

To discuss a Weekend Update: I'm wearing my birthday suit

When people say "birthday suit," they probably don't mean "zipup coveralls for snow shoveling." But there I was Saturday, shoveling the two feet of snow Jesus cried* onto the Pennsylvania landscape on my birthday.

* Snow is made of Jesus' frozen tears. Rain is made of Jesus' warm tears. Sleet is made of Jesus' drool. That's why no one likes sleet.

I appreciate all the birthday wishes you all gave me throughout the three day guest post series, including Children of the 90s, Jenners and Anna Lefler. I understand if you read their posts and decided to leave me for their greener pastures. I won't hold it against you.

Let's recap my birthday weekend, for the remaining stragglers:

• Snow began falling Friday night at such a fast rate that we had to keep shoveling a patch of grass for our dogs to pee on. It's at this point in dog ownership that you realize you are essentially a catheter.
  
• By Saturday morning, there was two feet of snow on the ground and the entire county was in emergency status, meaning you weren't allowed to go anywhere. Fortunately, Capricorn and I had stocked up on bread, milk and birthday ice cream cake. I had cake for dessert at 12:05 a.m. Saturday morning, then for breakfast, then for dessert again. I now am eligible for the next season of the "Biggest Loser."
  
• Since Capricorn and I were trapped, we resorted to cannibalism spent the day watching movies. Quick reviews:

1. The Invention of Lying: Lots of funny stuff, and you'll like it if you like Ricky Gervais. And if you like to lie.
2. Whip It: Doesn't quite know what time period it wants to be in, and is a little too awkward in places. Plus, you spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out which of the team members are lesbians, and which are just tomboyish. But the film is very watchable, and you get to spend the movie thinking, "That burglar from Home Alone makes a good dad."
3. Inglorious Basterds: Had no idea what to expect, and Capricorn figured she wouldn't like it. We both ended up loving it. Capricorn gave it an A+, while I contemplated how long it would take a horny Jersey Shore cast member to nickname his penis the "Jew Hunter" next season in the Hamptons.
   

• I bought a new laptop, which should arrive today. My current laptop had a booting error again this week, and although I got it repaired, this is becoming like keeping your grandmother on life support. Sometimes, you have to know when to gracefully pull the plug, before it drags on. That is, unless the grandma in this analogy is at Seattle Grace on "Grey's Anatomy." And then you'd need every doctor in the hospital, and all the interns, to stop by to give an opinion in the midst of their sexual tension and underlying resentment, before they bust out in tears and/or on-call room sex, and then second-guess your decision making while hovering near the window that is conveniently located where everyone in the hospital hangs out. And then your grandma has sex with an intern. Who is bisexual. And has brain cancer.
  
• Oh, yeah, sorry, computers. That's where we were. I'm getting a 13.3-inch, ultraportable HP dm3, after I had completed extensive research and collected my tax refund. And for all of you who are about to say, "Why didn't you get a Macbook?!?! Apple is the best!??! Jesus was probably a Mac guy!!! Apple cures AIDS and leprosy!!!!", I'd respond that yes, Macs are great and easy to use -- and they also cost 3x as much. Mercedes are great, but I don't need to go in great debt for them when I can get most of the same performance out of a Honda. High-class escorts are great, but I don't buy them when I can get the same ... sparkling conversation out of a $5 hooker. That, and Apple spent months researching and testing its new wundermachine, only to call it an iPad. That makes me concerned. And menstrual.
  
• I actually had a backup of my laptop's data before the rebooting problem, so that was a relief (external hard drives are God's second chance. Not unlike Plan B or, in Sandra Bullock's case, the "Blind Side" to her "All About Steve") But I lost all my Firefox favorites, including the list of blogs I read regularly. Forgive my short absence from stopping by while I repopulate my list. Similarly, apologies to you, sluttyequestrians.com.* (* Not an actual porn site - I checked to make sure my joke didn't lead to a NSFW fiasco. On that note, don't go to whitehouse.com. I made that mistake in a college class.)
  
• Now that I'm 27, I'm looking for advice on anything I should know about this year in life. So, please fill me in on anything that happened to you that year, such as your wedding, a crazy party, Prohibition, whatever.
  

To discuss a guest post: Anna Lefler proves Life is Getting Weirder this birthday

My birthday is tomorrow! Hooray! Woohoo! Shebamzee!

I'd be more excited if we weren't getting 1-2 feet of snow today and tomorrow. My birthday cake will be made of snowballs. Hopefully not the yellow ones.

The past two days, Children of the 90s recapped famous kids(that we hate) born in the '90s, and Jenners recapped birthdays throughout her life. Thanks again to those two for making my writing skills look bad.

Speaking of great bloggers, Anna Lefler is in the hizzouse today (It's my birthday and I can used dated Snoop Dogg references if I want to) to wrap up the guest posts. She's got a bit of a surprise announcement to make, too, one that will shock my parents.

After you read it, check out her blog, Life Just Keeps Getting Weirder, including a hilarious post on "Suggested Engine Sounds To Be Installed on Electric Cars."
-----------------------------

Happy Birthday, Bro!

Not many people know this, but Andy and I are related. That's right – we're kin!

And when I say "not many people," I'm not kidding because, um, I don't think Andy knew it either. But the way I figure, what better day than today to let him in on the fabulous news: we're brother and sister! I know. I'm blown away all over again.

I'll never forget that day, Andy, so many years ago - the number of which is really immaterial – when our father (whom we amusingly referred to as "Fred MacMurray") brought you home from the hospital. It was such a joyous scene when Mr. French threw open those double doors with the unspeakably chic knobs right in their centers and there you were, nestled in Ellie Mae's arms as Jethro whooped and threw his hat down the hallway.

I was so excited to meet you, partly because I'd always wanted a baby brother, but also because I was hoping you might know where Mom was. She never seemed to be around like other kids' mothers.

Oh, sure, I caught glimpses of her over the years. Once I saw her disappear around the hog shed wearing a chiffon dressing gown and fierce French twist and I remember wondering where she'd gotten that Hungarian accent. (No one else in our little town of Petticoat Junction had one.) Then there was the time I saw a woman in capris rustling around in our daisy bed. I scampered across the yard but before I could reach her, she twitched her nose and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

Even though Mom was missing, we had plenty of people in our lives who kept things interesting. There was Uncle Charley – remember him? He taught us how to swear and give homemade tattoos. And Uncle Bill who, come to think of it, looked a lot like Dad. And of course Uncle Arthur, my favorite. I loved his laugh; it sounded just like Paul Lynde's.

I guess you may not remember much of this because you were still quite young when you went to live with that family on the hill. They seemed like a nice bunch, even though the dad was a little green and flat-headed for my taste and the really hairy guy with the glasses and bowler hat kind of freaked me out.

I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize for not keeping in better touch over the years, Andy. You see, once our first single went to the top of the charts and we started touring full-time in our patchwork bus, life got crazy. Between concerts and all those screaming teenagers, I barely had time to keep my tambourine tightened. Then, when I heard about the S.S. Minnow being lost at sea, I was so relieved to learn that you weren't among the passengers, especially in light of your hammock and coconut phobias.

And so, all these years later, I'm tickled to be here on your special day to reconnect, wish you happy birthday and say how proud I am to have you for a brother. I sure wish I could stay and have some birthday cake with you, Chachi and Mork, but Schneider's coming by and fix my kitchen faucet so I'd better get back to my de-luxe apartment in the sky. We're still on for tennis tomorrow with Bob and Emily, right?

Excellent.

To discuss a guest post: Jenners recaps birthdays, good and bad

Computer update: Laptop is getting repaired, so I'm using Capricorn's computer for now, but that means no Teen Mom recap yet. I did watch the episode, though. Ryan was as sparkling and personable as ever.

Yesterday, Children of the 90s gave a great start to my birthday guest post series, offering a look at famous people born in the 1990s. You all proceeded to threaten bodily harm on yourselves for feeling old. No one followed through, though. Looks like I called your bluff.

Today, Jenners is going to recap her birthdays through the years. I particularly enjoy her 11th birthday. Give her some comment love, and then stop over at her blog, MrsFligs.blogspot.com, where you are sure to enjoy her interactive and self-deprecating style. She also has an amazing profile photo.

-----------------
When Andy asked me to do a guest post during his Big Birthday Celebration, he used almost every tool in his persuasion arsenal: flattery (he called me friendly!) and vague threats of violence (a kitten's life may or may not have been threatened). Although he chose not to overtly play the "I did one for you so you owe me" card, it was there, hanging like a cloud over my head. So here I am, writing a guest post for Andy's 27th Birthday Extravaganza. (Does this thing have an official name or what?)

Anyway, I wanted to be sure to ramble (as a bit of a homage to Andy), and I think I've accomplished that. So on with the actual topic of my post, which is a summary of my own birthday celebrations over the years. We've got a lot of ground to cover as I'm not a young whippersnapper like Andy (as evidenced by the use of my term "whippersnapper") so here goes.

Birth Day: Darkness. Pain. Light. Screaming and crying (which, I realize in retrospect, was my own). No cake is offered, but I'm given my first taste of oxygen.

1st Birthday: First taste of cake. In the tradition of virtually all babies, 90% of it smeared on my face, hair and hands. But the sugar is a jolt to my system and begins a life-long struggle with chocoholism (which is strange as the cake was vanilla).

2nd Birthday: More cake. A dawning realization that birthdays = presents for me.

3rd Birthday: I know the drill now and use all my skills (whining and nagging) to ensure a good birthday haul.

4th Birthday: First foray into the world of birthday parties. (Back in "olden days," birthday parties were held at home. None of this renting out a museum or ice skating rink to celebrate your birthday.)

5th through 9th Birthdays: More of the same, with birthday parties reflecting my interests, with a heavy emphasis on unicorns.

10th Birthday: The introduction of my family's "you get to choose a restaurant to eat at" birthday tradition. My choice? The expensive and exotic (to my young self) Magic Pan, a crepe restaurant. I proceed to consume $75 worth of crepes by myself. After my brother follows up with an extravagant trip to Benihana for his birthday, my parents rethink this new tradition and institute a spending cap and prior restaurant approval.

11th Birthday: Suffering under the new regime, I'm forced to have my birthday dinner at Friendlys.

12th Birthday: First boy-girl party. To maximize the stress and awkwardness, I get my period for the first time just hours before the party. No kissing is involved as we are all nerds and geeks. Everyone comes in a costume. The big activity is throwing plates filled with whipped cream at each other in the back yard.

13th through 15th Birthdays: Nothing memorable happens except an increasing sense of resentment and lots of seething that my younger brothers are still permitted to celebrate their birthdays like a kid (meaning decorations, parties and lots of cake) while I am informed I am "too big" for such things.

16th Birthday: Nothing particularly special that I recall. I certainly didn't get a car or fly all my friends to Rome like those spoiled freaks on MTV.

17th - 20th Birthdays: Fewer and fewer gifts are received. I begin experiencing a slight melancholy during birthday time as I'm not made to feel "special" enough.

21st Birthday: In the grand tradition of reaching drinking age (a full year behind almost all of my friends), I "get drunk" for my birthday. This results in five minutes of pointless giggling followed by the spins followed by extreme discomfort.

22nd through 26th Birthdays: Out on my own, only relatives recognize my great day, unless I am somehow able to work it into a conversation at work and score a cake.

27th Birthday: I've been married for several days and am already experiencing the first of many realizations that perhaps I've made a mistake in my choice of mate. Note to girls: DO NOT let your age influence your decision to marry someone. The following statement is FALSE: "Well, I better get married now or I'll be alone for the rest of my life and he did ask..." Note to boys: 27 is a fine age to propose. Sidenote: I was not unduly influenced by my wish for Andy and Capricorn to get married already. It seems obvious to me they are soul mates. I wouldn't use a guest post like this to make not so subliminal hints. (Ed. note: Hint taken. Geez!)

28th through 29th Birthdays: Nothing remarkable other than a sense of growing unhappiness with my life.

30th Birthday: My one and only surprise birthday party given to me by my coworkers.

31st Birthday: I give myself a present when I decide to ask for a divorce (not on my actual birthday but right around this time).

32nd Birthday: Newly divorced and trying out Internet dating, I'm confused by the fact that I've met the man who may be Mr. Right but I'm afraid to trust my instincts. Mr. Right showers me with presents and takes me out to dinner. (Note: This birthday review seems to have taken a sad track. Sorry about that.)

33rd Birthday: Married again! The start of an increasing complex series of Birthday Game Challenges between my husband and me. For this year, I must solve a series of riddles to earn my gifts. I'm now confident I met Mr. Right.

34th through 35th Birthdays: Increasingly elaborate series of Birthday Games involving trivia, homemade Price Is Right games and scavenger hunts dominate. Begin a new tradition of getting a Carvel ice cream cake for my birthday. (Love those chocolate crunchies!)

36th Birthday: The last birthday that will be even a little bit about me as I'll have a child within a year. If I'd known, I would have done something amazing like go to Paris and eat crepes.
37th Birthday: I've been a mom for two days. I receive a box of caramels; the baby receives mounds of presents. I realize it isn't about me anymore. Dammit! Why did my son have to be born just two days before me? Unattractive pouting ensues (possibly due to excessive hormones and the stress of being a new and inexperienced mother).

38th through 42nd Birthdays: Yep ... just as I suspected. My birthday no longer matters as it is overshadowed by the bright light of having my son's birthday just two days before mine. To compensate, I insist on having my own personal Carvel ice cream cake and I EAT IT ALL BY MYSELF!

43rd Birthday: My husband realizes just how wonderful I am and whisks me away for a vacation all by ourselves. (Note: I'm only 42 so this is merely a fantasy on my part. The chances of this actually happening are slim to none.)

Happy Birthday, Andy! Thanks for letting me a part of your celebration. (And this is my gift to you. Don't expect anything else.)

To discuss a guest post: Children of the 90s examines children born in the 90s

First off, let me say there is no Teen Mom post today. My laptop had a meltdown, possibly because it hates Farrah, or just because it's several years old, which is 654 years old in computer years. I'll do one as soon as I get a working laptop.

Now, on to the good stuff. My birthday is Saturday (which you had marked down, obvs), so to celebrate, I'm going to heaven with 72 virgins have three guest posters fill out the next few days.

I was born in '83 and am turning 27, which is either really old or really young, depending on what year you were born. I know it always creeps me out when I think of people born in the 1990s, for example. And what better blogger to write about the 90s than Children of the 90s, who, if you haven't checked out her blog yet, has some of the most detailed, fun, and nostalgic looks at the decade of yester...er...decade around. She even just hit 500 followers. So check out this great post, then go follow her. Not literally, cause that's weird. I mean blog-wise.

Think You're Too Young to Feel Old? Think again.

Hello WildARDChasers! Children of the 90s here. When Andy asked me to write a guest post in honor of the impending anniversary of his birth, I was pretty excited. After all, we've been blog pals since way back when and I always think his posts are hilarious. I don't usually do this sort of thing, but it seems that now's as good a time as any to give back to the blogging community with a creative guest post. I use the term "creative" lightly, as technically Andy came up with this clever idea. But since he's so modest, I will graciously accept the credit for it. Thanks, Andy.

Being in your twenties in a strange phenomenon. In this world of extended adolescence, many of us still act like we're still coasting on the edge of our teenage years. We don't feel older. That is, until our friends start talking at dinner parties about mortgages and tax credits and car insurance rates and all sorts of other topics that feel distinctly adult. Not in the fun XXX adult way, but in the boring, dry "Am I turning into my parents?" adult kind of way.

We're still young, of course. I'm not implying we need to buckle down and behave soberly and responsibly quite yet. But sometimes you just get that distinct feeling that our time basking in the glorious carefree sun of youth is drawing to a close. The teen idols of our day are settling down, getting married, popping out lucratively photogenic babies. An entirely new generation of young stars are commanding the spotlight and they have a unique talent of making the rest of us still-young 20-somethings feel ancient. You know, like subjects worthy of exploration by the ever-wise Olmec on Legends of the Hidden Temple. Even that reference going over the respective heads of these up-and-coming pretty young things is enough to make us feel practically retirement home-bound.

Just in case you're thinking you're too young to start feeling old, here's a surefire trick: consider that some of today's top-earning celebrities were born in the 90s. That's right. While we were out there frolicking with our Big Wheels and Skip Its, these kids were enjoying the well-insulated fetal chamber of the womb.

Here are just a few of these kidlets out there making more money this year than we'll probably see in a lifetime:

Kristen Stewart (born April 9, 1990)

I'm not much of a Twihard myself, but from what I've heard around the interwebs is that this girl is going to be rolling in it. At the tender age of 19, she's rumored to be making somewhere in the vicinity of eight figures on the upcoming films. Let me say that one more time for you, just in case you missed it. Eight figures. I'm five years older than her and barely making my rent payments. Hurts, doesn't it?

Soulja Boy (born July 28, 1990)

When his 2007 single"Crank That (Soulja Boy)" hit number one, this kid was the youngest ever to produce, write, and perform his own number one single. I was going to say "sing", but that wouldn't be the proper verbage for his work, would it? Anyway, if you've got time to come up with some sort of widespread dance move phenomenon, there may still be time for you to catch up. Good luck.

Jamie Lynn Spears (born April 4, 1991)

You know we're in trouble when a kid born in the 90s already has a kid of her own. Really, though, the joke is probably on us. OK! paid $1 million for photos of lil' Spears and her newborn daughter, Maddie.

Miley Cyrus (born November 23, 1992)
Damn you, Miley, and your incredibly catchy pop music offerings. I'd love to hate you for eclipsing any of my greatest financial dreams before you were old enough to drive, but I can't get that damn "See You Again" and "Party in the USA" out of my head long enough to consider it.

Taylor Momsen (born July 26, 1993)

Here's an old Hollywood trick. How do you take a fresh-faced 16-year old and make her look like a tired 35-year old after a long night of barfly-ing? I think the smudgy eye makeup is definitely a factor. Anyway, you could always just check with Ali Lohan for more tips.

Nick Jonas (born September 16, 1992)


A religious, upstanding trio of brothers with questionable taste in hairstyling? This one's got Hanson written all over it. Luckily, today's teens aren't old enough to remember Hanson, so they're content to settle with these knockoffs. I want to say Nick is the cute one, but I don't want to implicate myself in anything statutory here, so we'll just say if I were 10 years younger I'd be wont to plaster my bedroom walls with his J-14 centerfolds.

Shawn Johnson (born January 19, 1992)
A gold medal and a Dancing With the Stars victory? You're really making the rest of us here, look like slackers. I thought I was doing okay if I can get down to the gym for a half an hour or so three times a week.

Taylor Lautner (born February 11, 1992)

Heck, this kid played a Mouseketeer in 2004 on The Nick and Jessica Variety Hour. I can guarantee none of his peers would even have the vaguest recollection of that show's existence, but it's got to make the rest of us feel old. And a little dirty for admiring his shirtless Situation in New Moon.

Dakota Fanning (born February 23, 1994)
As one of the youngest on this list, she's probably accomplished more than we can expect by twice her age, but it's hard not to like her. She even played the child version of Ally McBeal in a flashback scene. That's pretty much the only reason she'd even know who Ally McBeal was, and she was just 5 at the time.

Justin Bieber (born March 1, 1994)
It's more than a little disturbing to hear a 15-year old kid crooning on the radio about "One Less Lonely Girl." What's he going to do to hook her? Take her for milkshakes? Have his mom drive them to a movie? When I first heard the song, I thought its singer was the aforementioned One Less Lonely Girl. We'll see what happens to his career when puberty sets in.

Of course, if it makes you feel any better, most of the actors who actually play teenagers on TV are closer to 30 than 15. In fact, many of them might be older than you. By Hollywood's calculation, that means you've got at least a few more good years of youth before you'd have to start playing the parent or the teacher in a sitcom. It's a small consolation, but as the years fly by we're going to settle for taking what we can get. Happy Birthday, Andy!

To discuss post-birthday thoughts, including 911 and Chris Martin

I turned 26 on Friday (or, as my mom aptly put it, "Your second quarter-century has begun.") Thanks for all of the birthday wishes, including those of you who, upon hearing my age, have entered a midlife crisis.

Past birthday events:

• Around 9 or 10: I had just arrived home with my mom from Pizza Hut, where she had bought me a Personal Pan Pizza- quite possibly a perfect meal for that age. It was at that point that the phone rang. A 911 emergency official was on the line, asking if everything was OK at our house. Was this some new government courtesy? No. My younger brother had prank-called 911 and told them we had a rattlesnake in our garage. Might I remind you we grew up in Pennsylvania. Apparently, my brother confused our house with the set of "Hey Dude."... My parents spent the rest of my birthday reprimanding my brother and making him write an apology letter. I sat alone in my room and ate my pizza.
• Age 21: Legal drinking age had finally come. My friends had been excited to watch me consume my first alcoholic drink, as I had abstained from drinking thus far because of a dislike for the smell of beer, a sense of moral duty and a Very Special Episode of Blossom. So, I bought one: A Mike's Hard Lemonade. You got it- my first alcoholic beverage had less alcohol in it than cough syrup. This would be like me buying cocaine, except the bag contained powdered sugar.
  
• Age 25: At this point, in Connecticut, I had no girlfriend and no friends that lived nearby. I spent my birthday working, then going home alone. I spent the night working out at the gym. I believe I bought myself a cupcake. It was the equivalent of a girl taking herself to prom and standing by the punch bowl all night.
  
• Age 26: Capricorn knows how to treat a man. She got me ice cream cake-- it's my favorite, as it goes straight to my hips and my thighs. We went bowling, watched a movie (Hamlet 2, which includes the classic song, "Rock Me Sexy Jesus." I plan on asking my church's worship team to add it to their repertoire), and ate, ate ate. This included a stop at the mall, which requires its own bullet points...
• A sales clerk in a clothing store was walking by us when she stopped and stared at my face. Normally, this is because the person is confused that I have a Jewish nose but blue eyes, which would have given Hitler fits.... But she simply said, "You look exactly like (Coldplay's) Chris Martin. Did anyone ever tell you that?" "No, normally, it's Michael Phelps," I said with a certain degree of pot shame. Capricorn then realized if I'm Chris Martin, that makes her Gwyneth. I then became happy the clerk didn't compare me to Joel Madden.
  
• Capricorn discovered this wooden bracelet at a store. Evidently, the manufacturer gave up on the design and just carved a hole in a square.

What's your weirdest birthday experience?
--------------------
Coming up this week: Grammy coverage... What I Learned from Cosmo... a TV Play by Play of something or other (Making the Band?)... Valentine's Day thoughts.