Archive for the 'Getting old' Category

Make my day

June 16th, 2011

I’m in a foul mood today.

I mean I am in a really foul fucking rock-kicking shit-shifting mood.

No particular reason.

You can blame the full moon if you like.

Or the lunar eclipse [which I couldn’t see because it was fucking cloudy].

You can blame Bloomsday for all I care.

Herself has locked herself in the shed.

Wise woman.

The dog is hiding under the bed.

Wise dog.

I have to go out now and the car has a fucking puncture.

I think I’ll go and kill someone.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Thinking outside the box

April 18th, 2011

One of the few things that really pisses me off about getting older is that there are fewer invites.

There was a time when my calendar would be full of  invites to birthday parties, weddings and various other occasions for celebration.

Nowadays all I get is fucking funerals.

I’m not much of a party animal anyway, but that’s beside the point.  The point is that funerals are so fucking depressing.  Unless there is a really decent wake involved, they are dry sober affairs that do little except remind me that I am that bit closer to my own.

Personally, I’m not bothered whether I have a funeral or not.  They can fuck me into the sea for all I care.  In fact, I rather fancy a Viking funeral where they float me out to sea and then fire flaming arrows until I burn and sink.  I would rather they wait until I’m dead first, but you get the idea.

A couple of years ago, I actually gad to buy myself a suit.  I fucking hate suits, and especially ties, but I was attending so many funerals, and the old jeans and sweater were beginning to attract attention.  Yet another reason to hate funerals.

The one and only good reason to attend funerals is that I can look at the box and be glad I’m not in it.

Yet.

Not too old yet

March 21st, 2011

I was reading a thing the other day about getting older.

Apparently there is no limit to life expectancy.

It seems to be possible that Herself and I will run the clock past the ton.

I have developed a healthy disrespect for researchers over the past few years, as they are only too keen to come up with some absurd conclusion just to please their paymasters.  This time however I think they have discovered the ultimate goal of science – to provide everlasting life.  Their studies have thrown up a conclusion which quite frankly amazes me.  It is a leap of faith, but with a bit of thought, one can see the possibility of a certain logic in their conclusions.  And this fantastic conclusion that leads to longevity?  The reason behind the steady rise in life expectancy is “the decline in the death rate of the elderly”, says Professor Tom Kirkwood from the Institute of Ageing and Health at Newcastle University.  You have to hand it to him.  He is prepared to stick his head on the block and risk the ridicule of his peers.

I have a lovely vision in my head right now.

Just picture it – Herself and myself sitting out in the garden in the sunshine as our K8 drops up for a visit.  Naturally, she will have Puppychild with her, not to mention Puppychild’s husband, five kids and nine grandkids, who will presumably be my great great grandchildren [see- if President O'Bama can trot out the 'grands' then so can I].  Sir Fartzalott will still be hanging out of K8′s shoulder, while his wife hangs out of the other.  Laughingboy will of course have driven up already in his solar-powered chair.

I wonder if I will still be writing this rubbish?

Who is Justin Bieber?

March 9th, 2011

There was an item on the news last night about Justin Bieber.

Who the fuck is Justin Bieber?

Apparently he is well known enough to bring the centre of Dublin to a halt, with crowds of screaming kids running amok, trying to find him.

Now I have never heard the name before, and for someone to blind-side me like that is pretty unusual.  I decided to further my education by finding out precisely who this little sod is.

The first thing I found out about him is that apparently he is in the top ten of The Most Popular Women on the Web.  I thought that must be a misprint, but apparently not.  Very fucking strange.

The second thing I noticed is that he is the image of Donny Osmond, which is enough to send shivers up my spine. This is like something out of The X Files. Are the Mormons into cloning?

Bieber or Osmond?

Moving on, I decided to find out a little more about this freak.

Search terms that have been used on the Interweb -

“Justin Bieber takes estrogen pills”

“Justin Bieber molests fan”

“Justin Bieber removes left testicle” [what the fuck?]

“Justin Bieber hermaphrodite”

“Justin Bieber syphilis”

“Justin Bieber impregnated his mother”

and probably the worst of all -

“Justin Bieber converts to Scientology”

Either this is one weird fucking kid or else he would seriously need to gloss up his public image a bit.

And to think that in my day, pop stars were frowned upon by the elderly because they had long hair.

What the fuck is the world coming to?

The phases of ages

February 20th, 2011

It’s funny how age changes as you get older.

As soon as a child becomes aware of age, he or she will loudly proclaim it to the world, and will even declare the quarters, as they are very important.  “I am four and a quarter” they will loudly proclaim and woe betide any parent who leaves out the all important quarter.

As they approach double digits, the quarters will be dropped as they are then perceived as childish.  The most important thing at this stage is to achieve the double digits, because then you are BIG.

Through the teens, a child will tell their age very grudgingly.  It’s not that they are ashamed of their age; it’s just that any information is parted with very grudgingly.  The goal at this stage is to reach that age where they can legally drive a car, or vote, or legally get hammered down the pub.

From the twenties on, age isn’t as important as it used to be.  Birthdays are celebrated as a routine rather than something significant.  Of course this is the period of The Big Four Oh, or The Big Five Oh which, like the turning of the New Year is just a matter of digits and has sweet all fucking significance, but it seems to make some people happy.

At my age, birthdays is an event which tends to catch us by surprise.   It creeps up on us, and the next thing is that we are wondering where the fuck the year went since the previous one.  People ask us how old we are, and instead of the figure tripping lightly off our tongues, we have to carefully calculate by subtracting our year of birth from the current year.  As we have usually forgotten what year it is, and the old maths aren’t as sharp as they used to be, this can take some time.  It’s easier to just forget we have a birthday in the first place.

Of course, I am now heading towards the next phase.  That is the phase where a birthday is more of a triumph than a celebration.  It’s another year where The Reaper has been cheated and a further year to piss off society by cluttering up the place.  I’m not looking forward to that phase, but I’m not dreading it either.  I’ll will take things as they come.

But the first person who mentions ‘young’ when giving my age had better be prepared to have their head caved in with a baseball bat.

‘Eighty years young?’

Fucking nauseating.

« Prev - Next »