An big day for me is quickly approaching. On October 14, I will be marking the 10th anniversary of my 21st birthday party.

This statement could be read in several ways. You could be thinking that I’m making a coy statement about the fact that I will soon be turning 31. Or you could be thinking I’m trying to take a sly approach in announcing that my birthday is coming (though the date of that momentous occasion is actually October 12.) Or you might even be thinking, given my penchant for telling stories based in nostalgia, that I’ve got a little tale to tell about that party.

Turning 31 actually seems a little stranger than 30 did, but I do not intend to be coy about my age. I don’t have a problem with aging, as I’m still a big kid (as I’ve mentioned before) and I think I’m aging quite gracefully in the physical sense, if you’ll pardon the bit of an ego trip there.

However, I am a total attention whore about my birthday. I make sure that everyone I know is well aware of it’s imminence, and I am not in the least embarrassed to admit that. I am not going through the whole “Oh, don’t make a big deal over little ole me” game. Nah. Make as big a deal as you want. I will enjoy every last second of it with a huge grin on my face. This is not a ploy to get gifts, it is simply a ploy for attention. A shameless and brazen one. (Plus I do really like to celebrate birthdays - mine and others. I think it’s a great thing that we get to celebrate another year down. I don’t really understand why so many people get all uptight and weird about it.)

But more importantly, I do have a little tale to tell, as I’m sure you’d guessed by now. I can be a bit predictable at times, I suppose.

Sherman, set the wayback machine for 1995; I want to take these folks to a birthday party.

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