When I was 17, I drank an entire bottle of Black Velvet and cut open my arm from elbow to wrist trying to climb School 27.
Today, I emailed Kraft because the stores around here are no longer carrying the Olive Oil Balsamic Vinaigrette salad dressing that my wife and I like.
I've slowed down considerably.
It's not like I was moving at break-neck speed. Showtime isn't about to film a series based loosely on that summer I came home every night at watched my roomate play Final Fantasy IX, occasionaly yelling things like, "Move that rock. I'll bet that's the way out."
But, I answered to no one and emailed ZERO salad dressing companies. I once drank a beer out of rented bowling shoes on a 5 dollar bet. I used to leave the house with 7 dollars and not worry about how and when I was going to get home.
Today, while emailing Kraft about their Olive Oil Balsamic Vinaigrette salad dressing, I checked the box labeled, "Yes, I'd like to receive periodic Kraft recipe and promotional information emails."
I used to say to myself, "I'll never be my Dad." Well, I was right. Even my Dad is too cool to email Kraft. He doesn't eat salad.
I think it's time I made some changes. I think it's about time I started taking some risks...or, at the very least, stop emailing Kraft.
I've never tried getting attacked by a big dog and then punching it into submission. I'm sure that's a real adrenaline kick. Also, shoplifting.
Skydiving and base jumping are so cliche'. Instead, I'm going to jump over a speeding car. You actually only need to jump about 48 inches into the air. The car does most of the work. I'll start with something small like a Prius and then work my way up to the stretch models.
From now on, I'm going to get my old standard Whopper meal with an extra fry and the Oreo Cake every Friday. And don't tell my wife because she'll totally flip out and ground me.