Birthdays, bleh days.

Why do we need an annual reminder that we're getting old, and that our lives are running out? There's nothing graceful about getting old, regardless of how gracefully you do it. I don't want to be a crabby old man who needs to pee in a bag attached to his waist, and I don't want to accidentally crap myself every so often, but that's what I'm heading for and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Somebody needs to get their asses working on the neural interface to my robot body sos I can live forever and not crap myself in my elder years.

I don't want to loose my hair, or break my hip, or need fake teeth, or stare at a wrinkly version of myself in the mirror. I don't want to need a walker, and I don't want to think its cool to hang out in the men's locker room completely naked with my boys hanging down to my knees....yeah, old guys do that in the men's locker room, its nasty.

Sheesh, if 28 is hitting me this hard, I might not even wake up for 30.

FINISH MY ROBOT BODY DAMMIT!