super gay old

In a few weeks I officially become old.  Like, super gay old.  Like the type of old that everyone rubbernecks to see walk in and whisper cattily among their friend “O.  M.  G… why doesn’t he just die already.”  Yeah, that kind of old.

And these daily little vitamins don’t really help forget that my death date is quickly approaching.

29 days and counting.   Perhaps I should prepare a list of all the things I want to accomplish before doom’s day.