Humor by Michael Showalter

This June is a big month for me because it's the time of year when I officially switch from drinking hot coffee to iced coffee. It's also when I get to break out my flip-flops. Oh, yeah . . . and, um, I'm turning 40 this month.

Honestly, it's really exciting and I'd have to say that the only thing about turning 40 that I'm not looking forward to is turning 40. Other than that, I'm thrilled!

For example, now that I'll be in my 40s, I can finally say that I'm older than every single currently active professional athlete. How cool is that?! Oh, wait, that's not so cool at all. It's terrifying. I mean, how stupid will I look at the U.S. Open this year when I'm trying to get Rafael Nadal to sign my giant tennis ball? Answer: very.

My immaturity used to be sort of cute, but now that my 30s are coming to an end, it's not so much "cute" as "sad." Like how many guys my age do you know who still give wet-willies? Or noogies? But what am I supposed to do? Just because I'm old enough to be president means I can't make prank calls anymore? Being 40 sucks! I don't wanna grow up!

My favorite decade was my first. I remember with such fondness being provided for in every way by my parents: fed, clothed, burped. Ah, those really were the best of times. Life was so simple then. But now I'm an adult. Life is complicated. Nobody is cutting my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into funny shapes these days, that's for sure. I have to cut the funny shapes all by myself.

My teens were only OK. My nose hit puberty first -- many years later the rest of me caught up. It didn't bother me, though, since I didn't want the girls to notice me or acknowledge my existence anyway. Try to picture a young Jimmy Durante with a Beatles mop top riding a 10-speed bicycle no-handed. Got an image? Congratulations, you're looking at my ninth grade yearbook photo.

Speaking of which, why do people think that riding bicycles no-handed is cool? I mean, if you really want to ride something no-handed, get a unicycle. That's what they're for. Then see how cool you look.

My 20s were cool. At least that's what people tell me. I don't remember them very well. I vaguely recall eating breakfast somewhere. I know that there was a moose at some point. Yeah, my 20s were cool.

My friends tell me not to fret. They tell me that "40 is the new 30." My response to them is that I don't want a new 30. "I'm just fine with the 30 I've got. Thank you very much." I mean, look, I've been flipping eggs with the same spatula for 20 years now. It's got some wear on it, sure, but the eggs don't seem to mind. And sure I could probably go to the mall this weekend and buy myself some newfangled spatula that both flips eggs and gets wireless Internet, but who needs that? Not me. Do you see my point? If so, tell me what it was because I just confused myself.

Another big thing about turning 40 is deciding whether to have a party. I'm certainly open to the idea, but I'm not sure what I'd be celebrating. The end of my life as I know it? And what would my invitations say? "Hey, friends and family! I'm officially too old to party! So, let's party!" It doesn't make any sense.

Maybe I'll have a dinner party. That would be very grown-up. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'll serve duck! We'll make toasts! We'll talk about politics and other things that grown-ups talk about. And just when the clock strikes 12 and my youth finally expires, I'll yell, "FOOD FIGHT!"

Humor & Satire

Humor & Funny Stories - I'm Not Looking Forward to 40 | Diane Farr

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