Clank. Clank. Clank. Tiny explosions in the sky. Formidable foes. Let’s take a drink. Where was I? Telling a story. Feeling odd about growing old. I’m counting the days until my 28th birthday. An even number, goody. Excuse me while I figure out what I’m supposed to have accomplished at this age. I’m failing at life, that much is clear. Perhaps, I’m too much of a sissy. Bette Davis was right. This business of growing old isn’t for the likes of me. You need to be strong to handle this pressure. We’re in an age of sissies, though. I’m not alone in this. Why else would the business of age reduction be so popular? Why else are people “maturing” later and later? Get comfortable. We’re in…