Well, anther birthday has come and gone. You're probably wondering why I'm addressing this over a month after the fact. Well, the fact is, I'm not as young as I used to be, and the ol' noggin' doesn't move as fast.

That, and it takes me a lot longer to shoot off when I'm whackin' it to internet porn, so that REALLY cuts into my time to do other things.

So, I'm now 29. This is the last year I can even pretend to be young. Next year, it's pretty much over for me. My youth, my happy-go-lucky attitude, my endless optimism, bright-eyed idealism, and faith in the good of mankind will all melt away as if they never existed. By this time next year, I'll be a bitter, cynical, shell of a man, sitting on my rocking chair, throwing rotten eggs at young people. That will be so cool.

What has happened to me this past year, you ask? Surprisingly little. I'm in the same crappy job near PhilaHELLphia. I still have my tarantulas, and acquired some scorpions and a vinegaroon. I still pay taxes, I'm still scraping by on subsistence wages, and still hate The Sound of Music. Other than that, not a whole hell of a lot has been going on.

Oh yeah, and I got a girlfriend.

Yes, it's TRUE! Five years of agonizing over the past cruelties of my evil ex-girlfriends was slowly undone by a chick far cooler than I could have ever imagined! She likes my tarantulas! She likes movies where they blow stuff up! She likes computer games! She has a Playstation! She's smart! She's pretty! She's independent! Most importantly, she's trustworthy and loyal! She still likes chick flicks and crap like that, but nobody's perfect!

In case you don't remember the endless entries where I bitched about how part of me wanted a chick (we'll call that part Mr. Schlong), but the rest of me was horrified at the prospect of being emotionally ass-raped again, I'm willing to take the chance. I said that any chick of mine would have to meet some pretty stringent criteria before my quality control allowed her anywhere near my weiner, let alone my life. I can say that my girlfriend gets the resounding accolade of "Good Enough", an honor no chick has received since 1995 (and that chick was WHOLLY undeserving).

Some might say that I should thank my evil ex-girlfriends for helping me find out what I DIDN'T want in a girlfriend so that I could appreciate the right one when she came along. Fuck that, says I. I don't need to taste test a turd and a filet mignon to know which one I'd prefer. I would have appreciated my current chick regardless of past trauma, and in fact it would have made it a lot easier to trust her if I hadn't been though emotional hell. Thank my evil exes? No. Wish herpes upon them? Yes!

On December 31st/January 1st, I went so far as to get an apartment with my girlfriend. Now we're cohabitating! And it's not working out too badly! In fact, one might even be not completely unreasonable by suggesting that the small possibility of marriage exists some time in the distant future. She says that someday she wants kids. Maybe I'll get her a puppy instead.

One things for sure, though, if for whatever reason we don't work out, I am officially quitting the chick scene (and sorry, men from San Francisco, I quit the guy scene before I was born). Why? Because I can guarantee that I'll never again find a girl with the qualities of my girlfriend. NEVER. If I've already done the best I can possibly do, why bother trolling the bottom for second best? That's like using a Macintosh after you've gotten used to the PC!

Her name's Alissa, by the way.