40 Things I Did 40 Times (or More) Before Turning 40

They say you should live your life without regrets. I'm failing at that. I can think of at least 100 things I've regretted saying, doing, making or trying. Fuck it - if you don't have regrets, then you're not learning from mistakes.

Also: Agreeing to write this post may be my most recent, though certainly not the biggest.

I swear, I'm very handy. Yet almost every appliance, piece of furniture, game, kid toy or any other purchase that has required assembly has resulted in some sort of injury.

Reco: ALWAYS pay to have something pre-assembled, delivered or installed.

FACTS: Fun-size packs are too small. Vending machine-size packs are too small. Movie theater-size boxes are too small. 2-pound bags are too small.

I've done this millions of times!

At some point, we all care less about how we look with our shirts off. But I haven't given up completely just yet.

For the life of me, I'll never remember any of those billion-dollar ideas I come up with when waking up in the middle of the night.

"Wait until it cools off. Wait until it cools off. Wait until it cools off."

Can't wait... take a bit... AHHH HELL THAT'S HOT!

Do you actually need a doctor to tell you it's strep? Or the flu? Or a concussion?

Actually, probably, yes.

...only to think "Who the fuck listens to podcasts?" or "I have nothing relevant to say" or "Why would anyone listen to me?"

I don't mind the ocean, but I hate sand. It gets everywhere - like EVERYWHERE - and you are still cleaning out your bags, shoes and other places for days on end.

Despite a 15+ year break while living in the city, I've been fighting a losing battle to keep the damn leaves out of my garage. They somehow always find their way back in. Stay on the lawn, for crissakes.

Yup, I'm THAT guy. The one who'd rather be early than late. The one who fears long security lines. The one who waits for more than two hours at the gate jus to be safe. And no, I've never missed a flight...

Also filed under: "The College Years."

Flipping through the channels quickly, catching Shawshank about 1/3 of the way in, watching diligently through commercials until Red finds Andy on the beach in Zihua.

And repeat.

How many times have I hit "Print," walked over to the printer/copier only to see that someone else didn't clear a paper jam? Or refill/roload an empty tray?

Just wait until you have kids. This will be a daily occurrence.

On average, I get one paper cut per week. Multiply that by 52, then again times 37 (because i wasn't getting them before age 3), and it's fair to estimate that I've gotten roughly 1,900 papercuts in my life. So far.

Sometimes mistakes on Draft Day can have devastating consequences. Sometimes, starting the wrong WR in the flex spot at 12:55pm on Sunday leads to a 2-point loss. Either way, it's not good. So why do we torture ourselves with this again...?

I ride the train twice a day. And it's almost always miserable. In just the past month alone, I've experienced "Peanut Guy" and "Popcorn Man" - and that doesn't even account for the "2017 Summer of Hell."

Without exaggeration, there were probably single months in college where I vomited at least 40 times from excessive drinking. I'm not saying this with pride, but certainly with a small bit of nostalgia.

It's not a lie if you believe it.

Without question, this is the single greatest source of personal anxiety.

While it's not an allergy, per se, what do you call it when your body simply refuses to digest and metabolize an entire type of food found in 80% of cooked meals.

When you bring trashy magazines or mystery novels to the beach, I bring 1,000-word hard cover biographies. In fact, prior to starting my current project -- a sequential reading of presidential bios (I'm up to Nixon, #37) -- I had read dozens more out of order. So when it comes to presidential expertise, it's Douglas Brinkley, Doris Kearns Goodwin, Edmund Morris and me.

Honestly, every day crossing the street in NYC successfully is akin to cheating death.

Not proud of this, but when others keep going strong and ordering more shots at the bar, the only way to respectfully slow down is to fall off the chair, stumble backwards and disappear into the bathroom for a few minutes.

They're my seats. I paid for them.

I'm not saying I miss nights like these in my 20's with friends, at a dive bar just a few blocks from my apartment, but... well, yes I do.

You're sitting there feeling pretty good about yourself... a King and a Queen staring back at you... while the dealer has a 6 showing. They turn the other card over to reveal a 5... and you know what's coming next...

Yes, we've all gotten hundreds of mosquito bites in our lives, but I'm actually referring to an even more annoying type of mosquito bite: the ones you get when you step outside for less than 30 seconds, yet they still manage to find the small patch of exposed skin, latch on and suck long enough to draw blood.

You choose a song you know everyone will like, you hit all the high notes, land every syllable, even throw in some choreography for good measure. But halfway through yet another epic karaoke performance, you realize either they're not paying attention or they just don't care.

Not to make light of safety, which is serious, so Stop signs do serve a purpose when there are multiple cars or pedestrians at an intersection. But, like, 90% of the time, when it's just you at the corner, slowing down for a few seconds is totally good enough.

When it hits you...

Yes, we all do it. But the key is to keep it quiet, and look accusingly at others BEFORE they smell it so that you always have the upper hand.

There are only two kinds of tweets:

1. Tweets you didn't realize people would find offensive.

2. Tweets you think might be offensive but post anyway.

Of my almost 30,000 tweets, I'd say they are split pretty evenly down the middle.

As a property-holding white male, you'd think that I would take the right to vote for granted. But in the 22 years since I turned 18, I've probably voted 100 times. Primaries, general elections, state, local, federal, school boards, budget votes, buzzfeed polls, you name it. And while I won't say this next election matters more than ever... this election matters more than ever.

There. I said it.

Yes, I've been wrong WAY more than 40 times in my life...

...though this may be the first time I've ever admitted it.

Life isn't about what you do, but with whom you do it. There are always going to be people that help you along the way, people who care: parents, siblings, friends, colleagues, total strangers. And while being appreciative to those people is important, so is expressing it (which I'm not nearly as good at). So to anyone and everyone who has done something good or kind for me along the way, thank you.

When I was a kid, I remember hearing about a friend's dad who passed away overnight. It haunted me ever since... Now, every night with my kids when putting them to sleep, the last thing I tell them is that I love them. You know... just in case I don't wake up. Then I usually fall asleep in their bed and wake up in the middle of the night with a stiff neck or sore back.

Well, today is the day. 40th birthday.

40 years of accomplishments, 40 years of laughs, 40 years of emotions, 40 years of mistakes and 40 years of hopes and dreams, some of which have been fulfilled, but lots of time left to check those boxes and knock things off the bucket list...