Had to go to Meijer, sorry, "the Meijers" last night for some shit for the spawn's lunches, and it was an MSU student pigfuck in there. Fucking swarms of 'em down every aisle, looking all tanned and scrubbed and youthful and shit -- made me sick. I don't remember college students looking that healthy and attractive when I was in school. Though to be fair, while the people who went to my college may have been attractive, it was impossible to tell from the thick fur, bad skin and hemp-y clothing that covered every square inch of their (our) bodies.
Anywhich, whenever I'm around that many young'uns, I always wonder how I am perceived by them. Not in a vain, check-my-look kinda way, but, like, what category do they dump me into? Am I a "some dad" or am I "that old man" or am I "greasy perv" or what? Of course, I still think of myself as "post-college," which at this point in my life is fucking ridiculous... I mean, I guess you could say anyone is post-college. Fucking Phyllis Diller is post-college.
I don't know... I guess I just want some college student to see me pass by and say, "Huh, that dude's pretty hip for an old guy." In reality, though, they're probably saying, "Ew, that hairy old perv is looking at me. Security! Security!!!" Or worse yet, they don't even notice me.
It's even more magnified when I'm swimming at the Y. They always have these young, dewy lifeguards there, twirling their whistles and snapping their gum. I guess, in relation to the dessicated 90 year olds who I share the pool with, I probably seem "young" to them. And again, I'd like to think that when I walk out of the locker room, they might think, "All right, lookin' good, middle-aged guy!" But you know they're thinking, "AHHH!!! A REALLY OLD YETI HAS ENTERED THE POOL AREA!!! RUN!!! IT'S AN AGED SASQUATCH!!!!"
Actually, I'm pretty happy at the age I am right now. And it doesn't matter how I look, I'll always seem really fucking old to assholes in college. And that's fine. Fuck them and their youngness. What do they know, with their "I was born in the late 80s" bullshit? The dude in front of me at the checkout line was buying a 12-pack of Bud, a bag of frozen pizza rolls, some chips and a shrink-wrapped salami log. What a putz. Doesn't he realize what that's gonna do to him by the time he's 42?
9 comments:
Come to Brooklyn where you are the young and hip until you're sixty. And because so many of the young can't make it here beyond their dewey years, the older and hip are actually cooler than the young and hip.
So, by my own analysis, I'm getting hipper as I type.
(I will never use the word "hip" again...damn, I just did...Starting NOW.)
Crabbydad, I feel your pain. Recently store clerks are using the "Ma'am" on me, it's unnerving...and I'm sorry I missed all the upchuck turmoil! I hope you feel better.
Hey...aren't you only as young as you feel? Does that help? does it?
Went to a Girl Scout Leader meeting (yeah, lame I know) and one of the kids I used to babysit has kids old enough to be in my troop.
First up.. Hari Kari Badge.
Ah, young Sarah -- wait until one of the kids you used to babysit for is old enough to drink, and you are their bartender. Ugggh.
Let's face it -- we're all old. Next dewey youngster that calls me sir, I'm whacking 'em with my colostomy bag. Then Nora can pour us all a drink.
I'm 31 and have chosen to show off my youth by having a dinner tonight of High Life and beef jerky. (My wife was working late, thus leaving me to my own dinner decision.)
I'm going to pay for that tomorrow, but tonight... young! Get yourself some jerky CD.
hey.. are you old if your birthday treat to yourself is to set up stanley steemer to come and clean the furntiture? are you still old if you schedule it all online? does that make you more hip? please?
Am so working on that Hari Kari badge.
Miller High Life -- The Champagne of Beers. Reminds me of my Jr. High days, Matt. I think you may have discovered the fountain of youth. The jerky? I don't know... all that sodium'll give an old man like me a goiter. But if I did eat jerky and High Life, I'd definitely need Sarah to schedule a Stanley Steemer visit to come clean up my own Stanley Steamer.
Miss W's friend came over for a "play date" the other day. She looked at me and said "You got old." I pretended not to care while bombarding her with questions, the nature of which were primarily "Why..how can you tell!?" She then sized me up as only a 4-year-old can and said "You have wrink...no, that's not it. You have big veins." I looked down at my hands, and damn if they didn't look like they were covered in green gummy worms, which, by the way, I sure as hell wouldn't share with that little brat.
Post a Comment