- Every time I fill up at the gas station, I reset the trip-meter to zero. However, I have never calculated my gas mileage based on these findings.
- I can’t do any work around the house without first writing a to-do list. Ninety-percent of the time my list starts with “take a shower” quickly followed by “brush teeth.” If I get those two things done early, it’s gonna be a productive day.
- It takes me a minimum of 15 minutes to leave the house. First, I have to find my keys, wallet, and cell-phone. I actually find some joy in this task as I’m a sucker for an impromptu easter egg hunt. Then, I have to turn off the 47 lights that I’ve turned on, which usually involves turning on a few lights to find the off switches for other lights. Needless to say, I’m thinking of just biting the bullet and installing strobe lighting.
- When I find a beer bottle on my front lawn, I get upset. Big change from just a few short years ago when I would have checked to see if there was still a swig or two left in it.
- Roughly speaking, I spend 7 hours a day sitting a chair within twenty feet of two other poeple whose company I did not choose. This never ceases to disturb me.
- I defend jogging as a viable means of exercise.
- My upper body is so white that some people believe me to be a new species of human in the same vein that an artic fox is different from a normal fox. We are just waiting for the DNA results to come back from the research lab to verify the claim.
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i do the same with the trip-o-meter. i’ve noticed that my gas mileage is slowly going down as ny slowly destroys my car. since i do get up around noon everyday, i’ve already ruined any morning activities which include nothing productive anyway. showering and brushing my teeth is an excuse to get out of doing anything i don’t want to do. practicing the piano is no longer apart of my daily life. in fact writing this reply is taking up valuable tv time. gotta go.
Here’s a few of my Middle-Age Tendencies, also known as “My Gradual Path towards Curmudgeonry…”
First, I hate answering my door now. You see, it’s always some neighborhood kid peddling overpriced crap for a fundraiser that is probably already being supported by hundreds of my tax dollars. Of course, you’re supposed to buy something from them anyway. I can live with this, provided the kid actually lives in my neighborhood. Lately, I don’t even recognize half the kids that knock on my door. At this point I’m convinced they are all members of a roaming band of preteen gypsies simply grifting their way through my neighborhood.
Also, I don’t trust FM radio anymore. All I get are celebrity birthdays, American Idol updates and predictable call-in trivia games. Best-case scenario, I might get an occasional warning about the heavy traffic or inclement weather that I’m already stuck in.
Sometimes the path to curmudgeonry isn’t so gradual. Consider this… Today is St. Patrick’s Day, which is basically the only holiday for single men. It’s our only legitimate nation-wide excuse for going out and getting truly pissed. Yet, for some inexplicable reason this year I can’t even find the motivation to wear green to work. No green shirt, no green shoelaces, no green thong… nothing. And guess what, no one cared. Didn’t get a single pinch. I think the idea of celebrating anything is wearing off. In fact, I nearly wore all black today in silent protest of celebration. Maybe I’m not turning into a curmudeon, maybe I’m going goth.
Get a hold of yourself Dave, for christ’s sake. My sign of middle age is that I’m losing my hair, what more do I need to say. Maybe I need to quit my job and become a “homeless native”, they seem to do alright. Maybe that will preserve some hair.
Like MR, I too am now suspicious of FM radio. Nowadays, if you happen to be riding in the car with me while I’m listening to the local “Today’s Best Music” Clear Channel clone station, you can usually hear me muttering expletives about how rap music today is nothing like back when I was a kid. What the hell is that about? I’ve already turned into a cliche. And about rap music, nonetheless. But seriously, the rap music today is nothing like when I was a kid and we had to trudge three miles in the snow to buy our Snoop Doggy Dogg.
To top it all off, I’ve lost the will to complain when my wife changes the station to Adult Contemporary. In fact, I frequently catch myself bobbing my head to some of this crap. OHH, the humanity!
I must give thanks that there’s Air America in Portland. At least that’s something I can listen to without bowing my head in shame.
I don’t know how all you guys can admit to being middle age so easily. Krusty will never age past 21. And yes I did just refer to myself in the third person. I have found myself doing this alot. I find that it gives Krusty a real ego boost when Krusty talks about krusty. In reconsideration Krusty has skipped middle age and gone straight towards being senile.