Ladies and Gentlemen, we've hit a landmark. The man you see above is no longer a spry youth in his twenties -- oh no, he is not. He has graduated into the "Third Age", as Elves might call it... but for us, it's just "our Thirties". He's taking it all in stride, however, refusing to change his daily routine (save for the addition of some prune juice to his diet), god bless him. Maybe this year he'll actually get hair on his chest.
So take a good look, kids -- Frants is another year older. And, as he pointed out, it's sort of an arbitrary benchmark, "only in the way that we assign more meaning to decades and numbers ending in zero." I consider it a benchmark in other ways, however, because just over eleven years ago, most of us met for the first time in upstate New York. And, almost eleven years ago exactly -- Frants put together a little improv troupe where a couple of us got to find out how funny we were. (*Ahem, "Rubber Bone" - 1st Place in the Ithaca College Improv Comedy Competition.) And since then, we've had some grand adventures (most of which have been arranged by Frants The Travel Agent).
So I say, Happy Birthday, sweet Brants. Here's to 30 more years of fun fun, fun in the sun.
