This is an open letter to my wife, meaning devoid of my true feelings, which, frankly, are none of your g.d. business:
So, now you're IN your thirties. That's fine. I'm like, what, 50? You'll always be referred to as "his young wife."
So, you live in a basement. So did Laverne & Shirley. That's fine. They were like, what, 50?
People will take you seriously now. When you're in your twenties, everyone smiles a lot and says, 'Hey, that's good initiative," and then, behind your back, they gather with their thirty-and-up associates and chuckle over what idiots twenty-somethings are. And teenagers? Good god, are they still around?
You are thirty-something today and should begin getting my Timothy Busfield references. Oh, and Peter Berg (he made a few appearances on "Entourage").
Look who else is 31! Bitsie Tulloch, the girlfriend with the weird face on "Grimm"; Rapper Pitbull (he don't play football, but he's touched down everywhere. Everywhere? Everywhere!); Bryce Howard ("Two Slice Hilly"); and Megan Hilty, aka "Marilyn Nomore."
You're in good company. I don't mean with them. I mean with me.
All right, the rest of you, back to your Facebooks!
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