And now I'm depressed...

I was feeling pretty good about myself this morning. I was at Sunset again and wasn't too antsy during the long lulls. I've figured out that the best way to have fun at Sunset is to chat with your neighbor, the regulars of Sunset being a jocular crew. Then, when the set comes, you drop in on your new friends (just kidding!).

But then I read a note on Wetsand.com about a surfing dog and I started feeling terrible. This dog surfs better than I do! I mean, I kicked out or "gracefully" finished every wave today, but Buddy's a DOG.

THEN, I read an editorial in Variety by Peter Bart about director John Hughes (THE BREAKFAST CLUB, SIXTEEN CANDLES, FERRIS BUELLER, etc.). Bart writes in the last paragraph:

Hughes' audience, now middle-aged, remembers Hughes' films with a fond glow and would love to revisit them. The trouble is they're not young anymore. Neither is Hughes.

When did I become middle-aged?!?! What happened to my "Sex and the City" 30s and 40s? I know the show is over, but I was hoping to parade around in sexy shoes with outrageous heels for another two decades.

I'm throwing in the towel. Next time you see me surfing, you'll recognize me by the surfboard outfitted with a walker.