So this is 40.

Today, January 21st, 2021, I turned 40 and I'm feeling all sorts of ways about it.

One, what?

40?

How the hell am I 40?

I certainly don't act like I thought a 40-year-old would act.

You know, get off my lawn, you damn kids.

Let's get that early bird special.

And is 9 p.m. too early for bed?

The answer to the last question is yes.

9 p.m. is too early for bed, you old farts.

I think I still feel like my parents' kid if that makes

any sense. What I mean by that is they seem like the adult in the room, the one I always look

over to for affirmation or to see if I spoke out of line or said something I shouldn't have said. The hardest thing I'm

struggling with is thinking about my dad at 40 and now realizing I'm at that age, but what do I

have to show for it? He was already married for 12 years, had two kids, had his business. I'm

single with no kids and I feel really far behind. Sure, I've

built this business, but I haven't built the personal. I remember being at my dad's 40th birthday

party in 1988 at TNT Amusements as a seven-year-old, mostly thanks to the photographs that my mom

took at the party, including these photographic

gems of the stripper they hired. Now, don't worry, my brother and I weren't in the room for that,

or were we? What I'm trying to wrap my head around is how he is 40 in those photos, and now

...