Hi Darling Ones,

This afternoon I told a couple of clients I wouldn’t be available on Monday because it was my birthday and my sisters are coming to town. That’s when it really, truly hit me that god willing and the creek don’t rise, I’m gonna be fifty years old on Monday. 50. FIIIIiiiiIIFFFFFFfffffttty. Five and zero.

I do not feel emotionally prepared to be fifty. I’m way too immature for such a wise & wizened age. The word ‘boner’ still makes me laugh until I can’t breathe. I spent some minutes today arguing with a Buzzfeed poll about Bob’s Burgers.* Last week I cut my own hair because it was bugging me. I frequently go three days without changing my shirt and pants. Just last night I nearly burned Supergenius HQ down because I got distracted making sausage & peppers and not to brag, but 24 hours later despite having the windows open all day today it still smells like incinerated onions in here.

Who decided it would be a good idea to let me be this old? I’m super thankful, but I feel like I’m gonna give 50somethings a bad name.

While I might not be emotionally ready to be fifty, I have been kicking around this planet long enough that all my pop cultural references and cultural touchstones date me.

For instance, I have been really very busy with the work. I’ve signed on so many new clients/projects the past two months you ought to be referring to me as your favorite Spinster Tycoon.** One of the odd traits of your favorite Spinster Tycoon is gallows optimism. It’s like gallows humor but for optimism where you know you’re being stupidly hopeful in the face of ridiculous deadlines but that doesn’t stop you. I love meeting ridiculous deadlines. It makes me feel alive and like I’m using all my superpowers

However, I’m a dual-personalitied Gemini. So even while I’m saying yes to the deadline with my face, my brain is all “your mouth is writing checks your ass cannot cash.”

Which brings us to my dated cultural touchstones. Aside from my blabber mouth, WHO WRITES CHECKS ANYMORE? Nobody. I bought checks when I switched banks in like 2016 and have written two since then. One was to a plumber who did not approve of my choice in personality-defining, hard-to-read check design (pictured above) and the other was to the furnace repair guy I thought was gonna hit on me but instead saved me $300.

I’m not even 100% sure that my checks look like the ones pictured above. In my memory they do, but I’m definitely too lazy to go dig out the checkbooks from the bottom of my China cabinet drawer.

In another ode to my aging GenXdom, I googled the phrase “mouth writing checks your ass can’t cash” to make sure it doesn’t have hideously racist origins. As far as I can tell, it does not. However, the origins are still pretty sketchy. Apparently, a similar phrase is from the movie “Top Gun” which I have never seen because I hate Tom Cruise that much. I hate Tom Cruise so much that I’m still mad he was in “The Outsiders.” I hate Tom Cruise so much I’ve only seen about four movies he starred in and two of those were for Cameron Crowe related reasons.

Anyway, my ass has some checks it needs to get to cashing. More later,
Jodi

 
*Silence of the Louise is the best episode of Bob’s Burgers and I will die on this hill (and all the other hills). I know I have said in the past that Carpe Museum is the best episode due to the “weiner, weiner, wang” chant and copious use of Regular-Sized Rudy, but I changed my mind.

 
**At least I got this going for me. While I’m an abject failure emotionally, creatively, and fiduciarily (probably, I just thought this third one was funny) at least I got some thriving freelance mojo happening.