Turning 30

Before I start, let me just say that this is not a Jab at anyone’s age. This is an article about me and the fact that I am facing 30. If you have insecurities about your age and take this personally, well tough shit, as you have been warned.

I know that in the bigger scheme of things 30 is not old. Most of my friends are like 40 and up.  Not all, but most. I know that compared to them I am still n laaitie, nat agter die ore. But here is the thing. I am turning 30 in less than a month. The big 3-0. Slowly surrendering the things of youth and walking into an adult life that is meaningful. Or so they say. The other thing they say is that it is the start of my dirty 30’s. Really? Can it get any dirtier. I am already into all the BDSM things. I already tie him down and we already do things that will make most people run for hills and makes us 50 shades of very fucking exciting and dirty.  Secret Garden se moer.

But I am freaking out just a little bit about this 30 thing.  According to case studies done this year the average male life expectancy in this country is 48 and in the world is 67. Yes I know that 90% of stats are bullshit, hehehehehe, thanks Frankie. But even if we say that I will live to 90, which I highly fucking doubt, it still means that a third of my life is over. Gone. So weg soos laas maand se pay.  I will never get it back. I will never be able to redo it, I will never be able to change what I have done. It’s not that I have regrets. Not at all. Well I do have one, but that is personal. But OMG I am almost 30. Gravity is really doing a number on me lately and my damn metabolism is about as useful as a  man at a lesbian feminist group sex session.

I am coming to grips with the fact that I will never again be that young skinny sexy little boy that Paul first met. I realize that I should however embrace the more distinguished look the more gentleman like qualities and the lets say sophistication of age. ………………..yea you all also so the problem there didn’t you?

Firstly I still dress like I am part of some weird experiment that went horribly wrong in the 80’s and the only reason it is continuing is because people are curious to know what the fucq is gonna happen next. Believe me, so am I. I dont dress like this because I seek attention, as some people suggest. I dress like ths cuz I truly am cumfy in what I wear. I truly do like what I wear and feel. Planning what I will be wearing for the mourning of my youth (otherwise known as a birthday party) is killing me, all I have left to work with is legs. My waist might be big enough to feed a small country but my legs are still good. So I will be wearing something Lady Gaga, meets Cher, meets Winehouse, meets Fucqup Fairy, meets Bjork.

Lets face it, I wont have to look at me during the night. All of you do however. Sucks being you, hehehehehehe

But also this 30 thing has got me thinking on my achievements and what I have done and children. And let me tell you about all of this. Firstly, what I have done is amazing. Spiritually I have done quite a bit, not enough and not on Ghandi's level but a bit. I look at my portfolio and sometimes can’t believe that, that is me. On a fashion level, I have opened the door for circus freaks everywhere to just wear whatever makes them feel comfortable and makes them feel good about themselves. I am a God amongst insects hehehehehe oh and circus freaks. Another thing that I have done is to be a medical miracle. I have very recently been for a check up and my liver is in perfect shape. I nearly dropped my drink when the doc said that. I couldn’t believe it. As in not that it is doing ok and I should drink less or that it’s coping. No it is in 100% perfect shape. Fucqing unreal I tell you.

As for children, I still don’t want any. Every time I think I am getting a little broody then I just spend 5 minutes in the company of one of my plethora of nephews and I am cured. Teenagers especially drive me fucqing insane and it’s a good thing I don’t have any cuz I would be in jail and I would probably be BIG Bubba. 

So putting things down on paper, or rather screen (as my life coach would suggest, this is a nice word for Psychologist), makes me get some perspective about this 30 thing. And I realize that if I am gonna die at 48, then so be it, it’s a fucqing miracle I am still alive in anyway.

So bring the bollie and the fags (both kinds) bring the fabulous and the entertaining, gay and queer, the drag queens and the dikes. Bring the circus freaks and my ringmaster hat. Bring your wigs and your strapons, your garters and your g-strings. Bring everything that makes you so fucqink fabulous and lets kick the shit out of this birthday together!!!

Mwah!!