The Older You Get, The More You Forget

How many times have you opened the newspaper to see a picture of a really old person there, with two of their kids behind them, a cake in front and a headline reading "Happy 100th Birthday!"?

Too many times, right?

You know why? Because one time is too many times.

The 100th Birthday picture/celebration is way overrated and has made me think about how much I don't want to be that old.

I want to make it to 99 and 364 days old and croak. Before that though, I want my kids, or whoever, to plan a big birthday party for me down in the hall downstairs from where I live in the highrise. I hope the photographer is a really charmer, god-loving person that takes his/her job really seriously and gets to know everyone, so that when he/she finds out the horrible news about not having to come in to work, they cry.

Because the 100th birthday celebration is not heartwarming to me. It's sad. Congradulations, you're really old. You've seen many, probably all of your friends in a casket at some point in life, some younger, some older. You've likely outlived your husband, most of your kids. At that age, all you're good for is shakily dealing cards and keeping your heartrate down during a really intense old movie that reminds you of when you could move your legs. At that age, you can't even blow out the candles. You over-jumpy, over-diagnosed ADHD grandchildren blow them out for you. What fun is that shit?

And let's face it, no matter what pills you take, there's no way sex is even remotely interesting at that age.

100 doesn't sound like a good time; it seems like an endurance challenge, The Eliminator, The Family Double Dare Final Dare. Even if they invented newer drugs that lengthen the average age to 114, I'd still opt to die before 100, that way there people will say, "He died way too early. He had so much more life left to live."

But knowing my sense of humor and the likely chance my kids inherit that sense of humor, they'll still prop me up in a chair and tape my eyes open just to get me into the newspaper somehow. Then say I'm dead.

Maybe this is a tad too morbid for most to want to think about, but this is just a smidgen of the thoughts that somehow roll into my skull during the day.


The leftover scrambled eggs:
1. You have GOT to watch the link above to the eliminator. The way the chick Koya falls consecutively is great. Add that with the post-eliminator interview with Hulk Hogan after and you have a solid viral video.
2. Chicken Parm is made with mozzerella, and not parmisan. I don't care what anyone says, that shit is stupid.
3. When it comes down to it, all Gatorade Propel tastes the same after one sip.
4. When I read one critic say The Road (movie) was "very depressing" I was confused. I thought it was an action movie and not about a boy and his father dying alongside each other.
5. There can't possibly be any more terribly unfunny jokes about the new KFC heartattack sandwich being said right now.
6. Does anybody else have a fantasy football league right now? Becuase I've been invited to about 30 already and I think I have time to fit one more in. By the way, I couldn't be any less interested in fantasy football.