I’m 42 today.
That’s a four … followed by a two.
No, I’m not at all bothered by my rapidly advancing age. Whatever gave you that impression?
In an effort to lessen the dread brought on by turning an age that feels incomprehensibly old to me (and, thankfully, also feels completely incongruent with how old I actually feel like I am), Wonder Woman and I, for the second year in a row, celebrated my birthday with an overnight trip to New York City.
Last year, we hit the streets in search of a bar with a cool view … and ended up sitting under a penis.
This year, I did some advance online reconnaissance and found the establishment shown above, where we spent a few hours relaxing on those cushions and pillows while sucking down gloriously strong Patron margaritas in an almost-empty lounge whose existence apparently is not well known to the masses.
See how cool I am? Way cooler than your typical old person.