Don't I know it, Indiana.

In the immortal words of Indiana Jones,
"It's not the years. It's the mileage."

I turned 40 last week. And though I'm only 6 days into it, it's my firm and thoroughly well thought out opinion that being 40 sucks.

When I turned 21, the world was my oyster, so to speak. The ensuing remainder of the decade of my 20s was an effing ball. Damn, did we kill it. I worked like a lunatic and made enough bread to party like a rock star with my friends, travel the world, hang out with girls my friends and I didn't know very well - or at all, and even some we did know well. We'd party til 4am and still be at work by 9, ready to roll. Ahhh, youth. What a time. Glory days, right? *Sigh*

When I turned 30, I thought that I could no longer blame my stupid shenanigans on my age. And I was, well, more or less right. Sort of. I still pulled a lot of stupid stunts, but I became slightly - and no more than that - settled down. I had the same girlfriend for a whole decade (plus two) and we had one helluva good time, despite bouts of depression because my career was (still is) in the toilet as a result of some very stupid choices. But ultimately, during my 30s, the highs were higher but the lows were epic and destructive. Not as much fun as my 20s, but I still seemed to muddle through and have some fun. I spent almost half of the decade of my 30s unemployed which sucked. A lot. But I also figured out, just under the wire by the way, what I want to do with my life, which is great. So there you have it, if that makes any sense at all.

Still effing awesome after all these years!
Enjoy it while you've got it Home Beast!

Looking back on it, when in your 30s, you still believe that you can hold on to a substantial part of your youth. You've still got it, right? Shit, Bret Favre is 39 and he's killing it! Hell if he can, I can! Bring on the 25 year old women! They're still looking at me, right? Let's hit some full contact Karaoke! I can take it! Right?

In the great words of Peter Sellars, "Not anymore."

But the bottom line is that I can't do it like I used to. Shit, I'm 40 years old! I get tired at night, and despite my ongoing commitment to US Weekly, Gawker and MTVs The Hills ('Sup Audrina!) I have absolutely nothing to say to a 25 year old girl. Try as I might, I have nada.

Furthermore, even if I had a couple of days off and several thousand dollars of disposable income, I probably wouldn't be able to find anyone to tear it up with because all of my friends are effing married with children. Bo-Ring! (No, really, I'm thrilled for you all. Just don't call me before 11am on weekends.) But there you have it, people. The end of a pretty lousy decade. Some highs, but more lows. Optimism about the future ebbed during this decade. Significantly, I might add, which brings us to where I am today.

"Hi. My name is George, uh, I mean Pedro.
I'm unemployed and I live with my parents."

As I mentioned, I turned 40 last Saturday. I looked in the mirror for a couple of days afterward and thought to myself, "So this is what a 40 year old looks like." And let me tell you, it ain't purdy. I've been joking lately that I've totally become a 40 year old George Costanza: unemployed and living with my parents. And broke, too! Psych! All I need to do now is to stop shaving and wear purple, velour track suits all day and who the hell knows? Perhaps tomorrow I'll end up working for the Yankees! Holla! Perhaps this is the price I have to pay for telling girls when I was in my early 20s that I was, in fact, an architect. What's that about? Funny you should ask!!

First of all people: I'm 1000% certain that I'm not the first guy to bullshit a girl into the old sack-a-rooni by lying about his profession. Does "I'm a producer" ring a bell anyone? How many of you douchebags have tried it but haven't told the wife/girlfriend? Let me tell you girls out there to rest assured: guys have been pulling this crap since the dawn of time and your guy is probably no exception. But here's my story, and I'm sticking to it because in this case it's actually true: when I started my "I'm an Architect" routine, George had only said once on the show that he was an architect. That occurred in Seinfeld's second season which aired in 1990. I didn't even watch Seinfeld in 1990! And no one else did either, by the way. Following that season 2 episode, George doesn't bring up the architect routine again until the episode where he claims he built the new wing of the Guggenheim, called "The Race", which aired on December 15, 1994 during Season 6. Remember this scene in Monk's Cafe?

• Lois: Have you designed any buildings in New York?
• George: Have you seen the new addition to the Guggenheim?
• Lois: You did that?
• George: Yep. And it didn't take very long either.

I'm pretty sure that I started my architect routine after the initial unveiling of it in 1989 - of which I was ignorant - but I was certainly on it before season 6 in 1994, when the show was "Must See TV". Those years from 1992 - 4 were the days when these shenanigans were par for the course with guys all over NYC, and we here at Pedro's were no exceptions. One time Sammy and I actually convinced a perfectly well educated woman that clucking like a chicken was a new form of psychotherapy that really worked. Two weeks later when we saw her again, she was all smiles, blurting out that "I've got my mother clucking now too!! Thank you soooo much!" [Ed. note: I shit you not. That's a true story.] It was around that time that I began to break out the architect program. Modifying it, molding it, editing and re-working it. Loving it. It ultimately became a thing of beauty. I delivered it like the fucking Commode Story in Reservoir Dogs (YouTube link to the scene right there!!). But really I remember because that shit worked, and on more than one occasion. Chicks ate that shazz up. It was effin' great. I'll burn in hell for it, but if I die and go to hell because of the architect routine, well, I'm getting a better attorney because that's ridiculous.

So I begin a new decade at a pretty low point. But who knows what's in store. Things could be worse (hello Darfur!) so I'm not going to complain that much. I hope to turn things around and my staff here at PedrosNYC Chicago branch is all over it, so stay tuned! Big news could break over the upcoming holidays.

Anyway, thanks for the birthday greetings. They're truly appreciated because I miss all my peeps in God's Country: New York City.