I'm Getting Old

It’s the Missus’ birthday today - something that seems to happen pretty much every year at this time, always managing to beat mine by a good few weeks. She says its just the nature of time and space but I have my suspicions. Quite frankly I suspect she just likes getting all the attention first, but I’m too polite ever to pull her up on that.

Anyway, as another little piece of the “life” in “life-partner” slowly trickles away and the grim reaper gets one step closer to visiting our humble abode for some milk and cookies (or possibly a beer if I’ve remembered to stock the fridge), I can’t help but dwell for a while on my own mortality…

…because I’m starting to feel old.

True, I fully expect my death to be a long, long time off and to feature at least five legendary heroes wielding epic weapons (and no fucking hobbits - or else!), but that doesn’t mean that the signs of age aren’t already beginning to manifest.

Now I’m not talking about the cool things like ageless wisdom and the ability to say outrageously inappropriate things to good looking girls as long as you can make it sound “cheeky”. Nor the really horrible things like age-related illnesses and wearing trousers pulled up to your armpits. I mean the small “on the cusp” things that you don’t even really notice unless you stop and think about it.

For a start, my hair is going.

Now just to clarify, I fully expected this. my maternal line is full of bald or pretending-not-to-be-bald males, and I believe that this is where the genetic lottery takes its mullet cues from. I don’t even mind, truth be told, as the moment it gets too extreme I’ll just shave it all off and rock the Captain Picard look (Earl Grey motherfucker! Do you Drink it?!), but right now my hair seems to be locked in a full-on follicle war with my scalp that it stands no chance of winning but is too bloody stubborn to give up.

I mean, hell, its been a long time since I studied military strategy and tactics at university but even I can recognise that my hair has all but lost the battle of Widow’s Peak and is seriously hard-pressed from an incursion of scalp in the rear. Its pretty much all over bar the shouting now, and I wish my hair would hurry up and recognise that. I look like i stole my hairline from Nicholas Cage, for fuck sake.

Another sign that I must be getting on a bit has been the onset of common sense. Not a lot, I’m relieved to say, but there’s definitely some there. I’ve actually started putting things away so that I can find them easily again and telling the missus off for not doing it, for example, which is horrifying. Plus I’m reasonably confident that if I was told NOT to push a strange big red button right now I actually wouldn’t push it.

Related to this seems to have been a distinct lessening of my tendency to entertain evil and twisted thoughts. Quite frankly there have been several times recently where rather than happily stand there and watch Skateboarders stack it in hilarious and hopefully painful ways outside the bus garage (possibly even thanks to the odd large stick “accidentally dropped” in their landing zone) I’ve had to actively stop myself from saying “Careful guys, that railing looks quite high.”

I’ve started to wonder whether this is why all evil overlords fail in the end. Maybe Sauron took his eye off the ball (or ring in his case) because he was worried about whether he’d left the cooker on, rather than due to the efforts of the Fellowship. It certainly makes more sense than him being outwitted by a couple of hairy-feeted yokels with West Country fucking accents.

Ah well, age is coming and I am no longer the spritely young thing I once was. Best simply to accept it and enjoy the ride I suppose.

Twenty-seven here I come…

Bingo. I’m turning 27 in two days.

At least you’ve gotten married by now. My biological clock is starting to bother me, and I’m still single. Eek.

Yeah, that’s pretty freakin’ ancient. :rolleyes:

Happy birthday anyway, you young whippersnapper.

27? Twenty-seven?! Oh for pete’s sake! :rolleyes: :smack:

Not quite - the ring is on the finger though so next year with any luck :smiley:

For me the most disturbing sign of age has been my buttocks disappearing, leading to my pants wanting to slide down all the time. :smiley:

Twenty-seven? I was twenty-seven more than twenty years ago.

And I still have all my hair. Nyaaah.

Happy birthday, kid.

Just you wait. Your hair may be in retreat now, but it will make some surprise incursions later. Like in your ears. Or on your back. However, some of your hair in special place will become frightened and signal surrender.

Yes. Two of my children are over 27, and if they complained about getting old I’d just laugh at them.

Oh, my, garius, how do you manage to roll out of bed in the morning? Listen, one of the worst things that you will face now with your advanced age is … er … what we Americans call “irregularity,” if you know what I mean. Now, there’s nothing to panic about for I happen to have a recipe for a daily snack that is sure to maintain regularity. Mix one cup of prune juice with a half-cup of wheat bran and a half-cup of applesauce. Partake first thing in the morning, you’ll have accomplished the day’s deed by ten o’clock. At least that’s what my 90-year-old father-in-law tells me. He started partaking about a year ago, says it gets him up out of his chair every morning in time for coffee. Some day, when I’ve reached your level of antiquity, I’ll probably need it, too.

Oh, and be sure to take care of the ol’ prostate. There are all kinds of vitamin and herbal supplements, but my doctor tells me nothing is better for the prostate than doing its job as often as possible. And with all the wonderful new sites popping up on the internet these days, I’m not wearing out my wife with my health needs (poor girl is in the throes of menopause; my attention is the last thing she needs or wants.)

Oh, and get a hobby you can spend several hours a day on. It helps your mind stay sharp.

Hope this helps!

Sunrazor, not by any chance a fan of Dickens, are we?

“Will you partake?”

Oh, heavens yes, dear! And the Bronte sisters (but not Anne) and John Stuart Mill. Can’t stand Oscar Wilde, though. Too clever by half, don’t you see.

Get off my lawn, kid!

Somebody was gonna say it.

There are just so many things I want to say to you right now. But I’ll have to settle for:
Happy Birthday to your missus and happy birthday to you in a couple of weeks!
May you live to be 107!

:eek: :smiley:

I’m 26. I see its all downhill from here…

I’m 26. I see its all downhill from here…

And forgetfullness starts to set in, too.

LOUNE you’ll probably notice a tendency to repeat yourself.


Damn, you get slow as you get older, too. Apparently. :eek:

Whadda ya mean, forgetfulness? Who said anything about forgetfulness?

No, wait. Really. Who was it who said anything about forgetfulness?