196 in dog years

Today I turned 883,612,800 seconds old. It's been wonderful so far.

I have so many memories, as I should, since that's a lot of seconds.

I remember second number 524,966,200, when I said to Michelle, "...it..."
Or second 784,512,000 when I said to her, "I do..."
Right after that I said, "...not want to eat that cake. I will mash it in your face instead."

And who can forget second 853,632,000, when Marty said, "Whoa..." then he farted on Smigeon?

"Or how about this classic tune from the Poultney Mountain Boys?"

Yeah, those were the good times. Now I'm just an old man (like 35). Pretty soon, I'll have to start drinking wine, and like it. Michelle already does. In many ways, she's already older than me, even though she's younger:

• She doesn't play with toys anymore.

• She doesn't see the humor in ribbies, nahing, head-snaps, toothing, or budg-id-ahs.

• She eats vegetables.

• She falls asleep early.

• She wears Depends and uses a Lark to get around.

• And she always says, "Huuuuh?" (sounding like an elder duck.)

Yeah, I'm married to an old bag. I guess that's why I call her my old lady.

Oh well, I guess I'll keep her, if she gets me a guitar.

Here's my birthday limerick:

On the day I celebrate my birth
With like 0.27 % of the Earth
I'll eat some nice cake
but not the kind you bake
No, mine will be made of ice cream.

Happy birthday to me. Sweet.