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The Manual We Never Got (Notes for the Kids, Reality for Us)
This week on Diary of a Bald Man, we are taking a mandatory mental health break from the grim reaper. Look, our last episode One More Minute shook the globe. We lose one man a minute to suicide, and that heavy-ass reality slowed a lot of people down. It’s vital that we check on our buddies, but today? Today we need to laugh until the tears roll, clear out the smoke, and celebrate the absolute, absurd comedy of hitting the second half of life.
Because let’s face it: nobody warns you about the day you officially cross over from a young buck making questionable choices to an old head getting a medical injury from sleeping too hard. I turned my head to look at the alarm clock the other day and my neck made a sound like a dry branch snapping in the woods. Defeated by a pillow.
In this episode, we’re delivering some dual-education for the garage crew:
To the Under-30 Crowd: Stop playing Russian roulette with your digestion on gas station burritos and Red Bull. Your brain and your gut are on a direct hotline, and your body is about to revoke your operating privileges. Drop the ego, stop posting 22 pictures of your hot dog on Facebook, and learn how to actually be present.
To the Veteran 45-to-60 Crew: The ship hasn’t sailed; we’re just cruising at a fuel-efficient speed. We’re talking about tactical pacing, planning our digestive schedules around 10:00 AM Zoom calls, and unlocking the ultimate middle-aged superpower: telling people "No" without an explanation so you can stay in your comfies and watch Landman.
We also breakdown the real instruction manual for intimacy (hint: it involves Home Depot aromatherapy trash bags and Waffle House), why you need magnesium to avoid a bathroom war, and why you should grab your partner's ass like it's a stress ball.
Those wrinkles aren’t signs of defeat—they’re trophies of the trenches we survived. Tomorrow morning, blast the hard rock music from 1994 with the windows down, eat the carbs, and play by your own rules.
Stay present. Isolate the bullshit. Thank you for living.
📧 Connect: [email protected] (or send your feedback telepathically, one of us will get it).
Please like, rate, and leave a 5-star review!
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By Allen WoffardThis week on Diary of a Bald Man, we are taking a mandatory mental health break from the grim reaper. Look, our last episode One More Minute shook the globe. We lose one man a minute to suicide, and that heavy-ass reality slowed a lot of people down. It’s vital that we check on our buddies, but today? Today we need to laugh until the tears roll, clear out the smoke, and celebrate the absolute, absurd comedy of hitting the second half of life.
Because let’s face it: nobody warns you about the day you officially cross over from a young buck making questionable choices to an old head getting a medical injury from sleeping too hard. I turned my head to look at the alarm clock the other day and my neck made a sound like a dry branch snapping in the woods. Defeated by a pillow.
In this episode, we’re delivering some dual-education for the garage crew:
To the Under-30 Crowd: Stop playing Russian roulette with your digestion on gas station burritos and Red Bull. Your brain and your gut are on a direct hotline, and your body is about to revoke your operating privileges. Drop the ego, stop posting 22 pictures of your hot dog on Facebook, and learn how to actually be present.
To the Veteran 45-to-60 Crew: The ship hasn’t sailed; we’re just cruising at a fuel-efficient speed. We’re talking about tactical pacing, planning our digestive schedules around 10:00 AM Zoom calls, and unlocking the ultimate middle-aged superpower: telling people "No" without an explanation so you can stay in your comfies and watch Landman.
We also breakdown the real instruction manual for intimacy (hint: it involves Home Depot aromatherapy trash bags and Waffle House), why you need magnesium to avoid a bathroom war, and why you should grab your partner's ass like it's a stress ball.
Those wrinkles aren’t signs of defeat—they’re trophies of the trenches we survived. Tomorrow morning, blast the hard rock music from 1994 with the windows down, eat the carbs, and play by your own rules.
Stay present. Isolate the bullshit. Thank you for living.
📧 Connect: [email protected] (or send your feedback telepathically, one of us will get it).
Please like, rate, and leave a 5-star review!