I’m Miserable Right?

Jethro Tull - Aqualung

 

 

I’m miserable, right? So I down a glass of vodka…. I’m still miserable, right? Although not quite as miserable as before. So I down another vodka. I’m still miserable, right? Well maybe not miserable but I’m still uptight. So I down another glass of vodka. I’m still mizabell rightio? Well not exactly mizzabrell, I feel kinda okay. Matter of fact I’m feeling pretty shitty good. So I have another vodka. Now I’m feeling it. Matter a fack I may actually be shhhhhh-happy. My oh my that vodka sure is a damn cure all. Onliest problem izzz, when I wakesh up tommorry, I gun be mishabelll all over again. So why’m I so doggone angry alla time these days?

Well to tell ya the truth I believe it began the day I received the letter. Oh yes my brothers and sisters, the letter is coming in the mail for all of us if y‘all haven’t received it already. That dreaded piece of shit envelope with my name on it from AARP. Say what? AARP??? You must want my damn father because I ain’t ready for no bullshit Retired Persons mail. That would make a a goddamn freaking SENIOR! Thinking she was being helpful my baby girl daughter pointed out that it would mean bookoo senior discounts, like at movies and ice cream stores. While she saw savings on really cool things like Netflix and Ice Cream Chill I viewed it as an insult to my entire generation. WTF? We aren’t seniors! We are classic humans who had the good music. We are the generation that had to walk barefoot in the snow uphill both ways just to buy rolling papers at the stationary store. We lived through the drought of 76 when we went three and a half weeks without any weed in town. Not even homegrown. We are far from ready to cash it in and get on the senior tour bus, we’re still digging the psychedelic tangerine flake hippie tie-dye bus tour. Anyway, that’s what started it all, when I got an AARP card reality hit me like a glass of prune juice on the rocks. That’s when I came to understand that I have become the ripped up pair of jeans that are no longer worn but were so comfortable back in time that I can’t throw them away. I am those old comfortable shoes that went out of style years ago but still take up room in the closet. Nowe I’m miserable again.

I was never really a big fan of reality but when it knocks you have no choice but to let it in. And here is the reality….I’m not getting old, I am fucking old! And so it became that my new angry path was the golden road to grumpy old mandom. My sarcastic wit was far too quickly morphing into cynicism and distrust. I was becoming grumpy about everything so I took stock of myself and let reality come in for a visit. Reality entered my abode like a bull in a china shop, it was like a cannonball of facts. Crows feet? I got damn ravens legs. WTF are those wrinkles? That’s just because my skin don’t fit as tight as it used to even though it’s covering twice the mass. The ever increasing midsection of my body went beyond pear shape straight to an amoeba like glutton. Exercise? I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a rep of sit up’s today. The most work out I get is carrying the what I bought at the liquor store into the house. Okay, so getting old sucks and being old is worse but that’s really not a reason to be miserable. No one ever said life would be fair but giving me the knowledge I could have used thirty five years ago just ain’t right. No, that’s not what made me miserable on this particular occasion, it was the culmination of all that reality combined with a recent visit to a local bakery that broke the dromedary‘s spine. I went to get some rolls and a loaf of French bread to bring over to some friends place that had invited us for dinner. The sweet young counterperson said to me, “Have you seen our discount? Twenty cents off on Wednesday.” Well another part of aging is we become far more aware of costs than we used to. Twenty cents is twenty cents so I thanked her, paid and left. But when I got back to the car I began thinking she gave me far more than a twenty cent discount so with life playing unfair I put on my reading glasses and looked at the receipt. It said Senior Discount Wednesdays, 20% off. Puzzled because of oncoming senility it took me 10 minutes to realize she hadn’t said have you seen our discount, but We have our senior discount, and it wasn’t twenty cents, it was 20%. As I left the bakery I went straight to my happy place, the liquor store. Why? Because I’m miserable right? The Hell with this shit, I need another vodka……

 

Reeling In The Years

senile1

That’s right, reeling. Reeling And a rocking, rolling till the break of dawn. That’s me! Actually its more like creaking and a cracking, falling till the break of bones. WTF? What’s happening to my body, when did all this shit all sneak up on me? Many words and phrases seemed innocuous but these days when I hear dig it I have grave concern. Buried in my work, quite an undertaking, dying to go there, drop dead gorgeous, all common phrases which now give me pause. But don’t pause too long, pour yourself a stiff one! Here’s what started this gloomy thought process. A snot nosed brat said scuse me gramps the other day and I was pissed. I was like who the Hell does that little jerk think he’s calling Gramps? But then I remembered…. I am a Gramps. I’m a fucking granpa! I have grandkids??!! How? When? Not possible! I still like to rock an roll, I’m just as fit as I used to be. Okay maybe not as fit, but my clothes still fit. Okay, maybe I have grown a few sizes and had to buy bigger belts and shit, but I can still rock and roll all night and party every day. So long as all night ends by midnight and partying every day begins sometime after five. Holy shit man, WTF has happened?
Its called the declining years for a reason. Everything declines downhill. It sneaks up on you, hitting your legs first. One day I’m running to catch the bus and an going slower than I should. When I just barely make it I think, Goddamn I’m out of breath. And my thighs and knees hurt. It was a struggle to chase the damn bus. Shake it off, its nothing, must be the weather. Its raining after all, and the rain does weird things to peoples bones. Yea, that’s it, the rain. With a sense of relief I wipe my face dry when something else occurs to me. There isn’t nearly as much hair to dry! WTF? When did my hair get so thin? And how did my forehead grow so big? It goes up so high I can’t see where t my temples are. Its like one big mass of lumpy hairless scalp halfway up my head!. OY, the decline is starting.
Then one day my indigestion seems harsher than normal. Wait, What?? Normal? WTF? When did indigestion become a normal occurrence for me? And now I have a baseline to follow? What happened? Here’s what happened, my digestive system has been working overtime for years, battling all the beer, wine and booze, chips, fried food, Mexican foods, Thai foods, donuts, cupcakes (shameless plug), an every other substance I carelessly forced down my intestinal tracts. Years of hard work!! And now its pissed off. My intestines are mad as Hell and they’re not gonna take it anymore. Time for some gastro-intestinal karma, exacting some revenge via my stomach. Best served cold means swallowing Zantac with cold water, and chewing Rolaids like candy on a daily basis. Too late for apologizing to the stomach, the damage is done. Apparently drinking lots of milk to line the stomach before an evening of heavy drinking was bullshit, and my stomach is liver. I mean livid!
Hair falling out, running ability compromised, and now daily stomach issues. How much worse can it get? Okay, time to go to CVS and find something that will slow down this aging process. Here we go, aisle 6. I grab a box of Lifetime Youth Glow something or other. Lets see what’s in here. WTF? Why did they make the lettering so small and blurry? Maybe if I put it a bit closer. Nope. Maybe under the light? Nope! I pick up the box next to it and can’t read that either. WTF has happened to my eyes? The writings not smaller my eyes have gotten cloudy. I look across to aisle 10 where they have a rack of cheater reading glasses. That’s it, that’s all I need, a pair of magnifying glasses so I can read the small writing. I’ll start with something low, like 1.25, that’s the lowest. They don’t look horrible and if I only need them for reading then these should be all right. Where’s the chart? WTF? The chart is blurry too? 1.50. Better, but maybe 1.75, perfect. Jeez Louize, 1.75? Whatever. Two weeks later I’m back looking at the 200+ with a case because I need to bring the fucking things with me everywhere I go. WTF?
I said to Maureen, “could this get any worse?” She didn’t answer. A bit louder, “Can this get any worse?” Come on now, I need someone to make me feel not old, so one more time this time real loud, “CAN IT GET ANY WORSE?” My answer? “For the third time! What the fuck are you talking about?” OMFG! My hearing now? Did I really not hear her the first two times? Maybe she was speaking away from me? Yea, that’s it, it’s the acoustics! I didn’t hear because she didn’t project AT me. But I bought some extra Q Tips just in case. Now if I can only remember where they are.
Yea right! Remember! That’s on the way out too. Hell I can remember an incident back 5 years ago pretty well but don’t ask me what I had for dinner last night, cuz I don’t remember. Dude Where’s My Car has become my reality. Let me review, instead of rolling joints my joints ache, and creak, and snap crackle pop. My skin isn’t tight enough to fit my body and it leaves wrinkles no iron can flatten out. The only thing that gets wasted anymore is my waistline and even with a belt nothing fits right anymore. I need to plan any road trips around bathrooms because while my bladder hasn’t physically shrunk it seems to get much more impatient and desperate than it used too. I can’t see or hear good but that doesn’t matter because I wouldn’t remember what I saw or heard anyway. I don’t go out but my back does and by the time the last candle on my birthday cake is lit the first one is a blob of melted wax. Shit man if I do eat the cake I get indigestion, which has a baseline. Speaking of bass lines, music that used to be classic rock is now golden oldies and golden oldies are now Fossil Rock. Does aging gracefully mean I don‘t pee when I sneeze so I don‘t really need a diaper? Depends!
Whatever, the big-bottom line is I am getting really concerned about all this because there’s only two things I can think of left to lose, sex and sanity. If worse comes to worst a little pill from the Doc will solidify one problem, that won’t be hard, er, well, yes it will be hard but it won’t be…. you know what I mean! At this point I need to worry more about dementia, about becoming senile. I can fix the penile but senile is another story. I know what senile is, I worked in a Nursing Home for many years and I witnessed a lot of senile patients. Wandering around not knowing where they’re going or why, stopping and talking about random things then forgetting what they were saying, concerned only about what’s for dinner. I can only assume senility is the next step. That sux! …..Or does it? Now that I think about it, those patients were happy walking around doing the Thorazine Shuffle like they were so stoned they didn’t know where they were. Is that senility? Totally stoned all the time, worrying about nothing but what’s to eat, and not being accountable for my actions? Kinda like the old days when we smoked weed by the ounce then went to 7-11. Not feeling quite so bad now, pills to keep me digesting, pills to keep me going, pills to keep me up, maybe some pills to make me feel stoned all day and not responsible for any thing I do or say? WTF, bring it on senility, give me a few extra bong hits of the shit!! PEACE

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Don’t Forget To Turn Back Your Biological Clock This Weekend

trippy-clock

DST?OMG?WTF?

I attempted to shake the vodka cloud from my head as I headed towards the bathroom. In an effort to remove the morning mental mist that settles in after on of those nights I rubbed my face and peeked into the mirror. There staring back at me was my Dad. OMFG, who is that? Who am I? The old dude I used to make fun of for having a soft bulging Buddha belly and a head of hair who’s only wave is the one that says good bye looking back at me. I have morphed into my father, and the worst part is its not the young dashing man in my parents wedding photo but the outdated bargain bin model. The grumpy old manchild in the promised land whose pants never seemed to fit right Not the leisure suit wearing try to be hip with the “in crowd” Dad with a comb over in a successful attempt to embarrass me, but the wrinkled and bloated bald dude whose only conversations involve his particular ailment of the day Dad. That’s the one looking back at me. Crows feet around my darkened eyes, wrinkles where my cheekbones used to reside, a fading grey beard, and a forehead that is over two inches higher than I thought it was. I have the face of an old man. I looked at my hands, my stomach. Old. When did this happen? How did time ravage my body so cruelly rearranging everything making everything so wrinkled, so fragile? Why does my skin not seem to fit tight anymore? Everything has gotten soft yet life continues to be hard. I’ve aged ungracefully and feel as though I have been one upped by time. And time snuck up on me like the devious practical joker it is, took away my High Times magazine replacing it with an AARP magazine. And membership card!

What do I know about this time thing, this tricky conniving concept that creeps and slithers around unnoticed until it chooses to rear its timeworn ugly head? This cruel dark spirit that sneaks into you room while you sleep and tugs out your hair, squeezes your bladder, and gives you random smacks so you wake up wondering exactly which part hurts this morning and why. Is time on my side? No it isn’t Mick! Time may allow you moves like Jaeger when you’re young but when you use up too much time you’ll pay for it with osteoporosis, poor eyesight, and a compromised digestive system. Fuck time!

Time and time again I was put in time out. This time, next time, anytime, Time in time out, time zone, time time time. Parsley sage rosemary and time. Sorry, couldn’t resist. Anyway, its that time of the year to change the time of day. Another tricky time maneuver. I have heard it said it was Bennie Franklins idea but I blame time, in another surreptitious plot to mess with our biological clocks, which for some fucked up reasoned I the one clock we can’t set back. Sneaky because that was my fall back on plan, to reset my biological clock back to maybe my thirties or something, but time won’t let me. My fall back is to not spring forward to quickly but that ship has sailed and this body can no longer spring without consequence. Damn you time, you won again, you’re the slinky descending my steps in intense determination unwilling to stop for anything. So time will just seep marching on and moving forward so the only thing left for me to do is look back in the mirror again, look lovingly at my reflection and say, “Love you and miss you Dad, wish we had more time.” Don’t waste it, make the best of your time, spend it with the ones you love. it’s the best investment you’ll ever make

BTW, don’t forget to change your clocks, spring ahead, fall behind…….PEACE