Happy Birthday to Me

I have just hit one of the milestones in the age category. I am now 30 years old. I can no longer think of myself as a young adult, or even as an up and coming professional. I am here. I am at the age where responsibility drops on your shoulders like a ton of brick and the most important things are bills, food, and football. Damn, that sounds depressing.

Well guess what, I might be 30, but I’m 30 years young. I will still be the same fun loving fools I’ve always been. I will continue to step lively, be a smart ass, and generally do all the things that adult’s think they cannot do because they are “old.”

I will go to the club and be among the grown and sexy. If I’m having a get together, don’t even think of showing up in baggy jeans, Air Jordan’s, platinum chains, a bandana, and a 3x white t-shirt. If you can’t find a nice outfit worthy of going out to the jazz club, or can’t rap your head around business casual—stay your ass home! And while I’m on the subject of asses, if you are a male, I don’t’ want to see it. Ladies, you are more than welcome, but please keep your ho-ish friends away. I’m not trying to have my nice neighborhood turn into the Jersey Shore with the Real Housewives of Atlanta making a guest appearance.

On the subject of music, unless it’s neo-soul, rare groove, or old school—you won’t hear it here. If you are Looking for today’s rap, what passes for hip-hop, or the electronic sounds of somebody’s meth induced musical madness, go to that white kid’s party near the university. I’m serving up Chris Brown, Beyoncé, Whitney, Boys to Men, and John Legend. Here’s a test, if you had to ask yourself who “Whitney” is, you don’t’ need to be at the party.

That’s right. I’m going to embrace 30 and make it my own. I’m going to be a Maverick in life just as I was in my 20’s. Stay in your own lane if you can’t handle it. As for me, I’m about to two step over to the stereo and crank up my music.

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