LIKE A FINE BOX OF WINE

There are many things that remind me of how old I am growing... my wisdom, maturity and sophistication.  My sagging, incommodious third nipple.  My 1951 Studebaker Commander that I bought brand new when I was 17.  And of course, the familiar chill sent through my spine that occurs when my sagging testicles dip into the toilet bowl water when I use the facilities.

Through the years I have learned to pay special attention to the small details, the minutia if you will, of everyday life.  Because it is sometimes hard to discuss these observations with those that I spend the most time, I've decided to use this space as an outlet.  The lack of genre will not only allow me to write openly about whatever slack-jawed yokel topic comes to mind, but should also help keep me enthusiastic about making regular entries.

Bon appetit.