Friday, April 8, 2011

The Joys Of Aging -- Part 3

Continuing my complaining about getting older and not smarter, here is my list of ways you know you're the old person you thought you'd never become.  I'm sure there are other lists floating around the Internet in those "forwards" that everyone passes on like the herpes virus of the 70's, but I swear these are original.

YOU KNOW YOU'RE OLD WHEN:
  • You start saving bread wrapper twisties, plastic closures and rubber bands from asparagus, just like your mom did (and you thought for sure she was a nut case).
  • You also save paper and plastic bags beyond reason, never remembering that you'll get another supply with your next shopping expedition.  
  • Speaking of Mom... you look more and more like her and use more of her methods, and those two things make you a touch suicidal.  
  • You forget...pretty much everything...at one time or another, especially:  movie titles, movie stars' names, your grandchildren's names, your phone number (yes, I did), why you were heading to the next room, even if you're not sure which room that would be, which day it is (but does it matter?  One day is pretty much like another.), that you've read your current book before or seen this movie or TV episode before, and where you've put the list of everything you didn't want to forget. 
  • You can't see to drive at night so you carefully follow the car in front of you, even when it turns into a shopping center you had no intention of visiting.  Maybe they should make "scout cars" to lead us to our destinations. 
  • You look forward to telemarketing or survey phone calls (to which you used to scream profanities) simply because you finally have someone to talk to.  Even if it's an automated call. 
  • Ditto the missionaries from the LDS, Seventh Day Adventist and Jehovah's Witness churches.  It's particularly fun when you're Catholic and think you have ALL the answers to salvation. 
  • Your shoes look like nuns' shoes from the 1950's.  Wait...they ARE nuns' shoes from the 1950's.
  • Doctors' appointments are your only social outings -- and there are plenty of them.
  • You have Facebook and Twitter accounts, but you're not sure what the hell to do with them.  Or why. 
  • You might text on your phone, if you knew how, and if you could see the damn letters and numbers. 
  • You're positive the school systems have not taught any English in at least 20 years.  You can't help but proof-read everything you see online, in magazines and newspapers (yes, you still read them,) and you remember with longing the days when subject/verb agreement was mandatory and when editors actually edited for accurate content and style.
  • "I remember...." is the starting point for every conversations, especially when you're alone.  (But who are you kidding...you don't remember diddly.)
  • You complain about your neighbor's stupid barking dog.  They complain about the volume of your TV. 
  • The last decent pop music you heard was maybe in 1986, you still listen to TAPES of the Bee Gees and disco, you yearn for the 1970's and would also yearn for the 1960's but can't remember them... and this time it's not because you're old.
  • The profanity and soft-to-medium-hard porn on TV and in movies makes you cringe -- even though your own language and past behavior couldn't stand up to any real scrutiny.  You also can't believe the lyrics in hip hop and gangsta rap "music."   (And you have to use Google to know how to spell both of those terms.)
  • You wonder why the hell the government just doesn't legalize and tax pot, but you don't dare discuss it in front of your Republican kids and their kids.  How did they grow up to be so conservative, anyway?
  • Speaking of kids and grandkids -- have you seen or heard of  helicopter parenting?  Does it make you crazy, too?  Do you worry your grandkid is going to want to take his/her wubbie (blankie) to college?
  • You have plenty of time to blog and no end of subjects to write about, but most of your family and friends who would read your blog are either not computer literate or they're tweeting in the Great Beyond. 
And finally, you begin to wish you hadn't taken the advice so seriously to eat healthy foods and exercise...is there really a point to living until you're 90?  Email me at cynblogger@aol.com if you know a good answer to that question.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

i just hate it when I am talking into to the mirror and someone is talking back to me....what the heck

cathy said...

A bright ray of sunshine to my day! Love that you are back...keep them coming.

Kate said...

Dear God, I have become my mother. It is to SHRIEK! Hate looking at myself in the mirror lately! She stares accusingly back at me!!! We are one. Arrrrrgh!

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