I just turned 33, and will be celebrating my 10th wedding anniversary tomorrow. That in itself amazes me, as I never thought I’d be married at 23, much less to a man 12 years older. So I get to see my future 12 years ahead of time.
As for physical aging, I go both ways (hee hee). When I was in college (around age 19-20), people would guess my age at anywhere from 16 to 25. With weight gain and gray hairs creeping up on me, I suppose I’m starting to look my age. But except for the few gray hairs in his beard, hubby looks young, so we’re about even.
Mental age? I feel about 25, and hubby probably about the same. We laugh that either I’m an old soul, or it’s a case of “Yeah, Mom, I know he’s a lot older than me but he’s really immature!!”
I have recently caught myself saying things like "These kids today . . . " Ugh!
I’m starting to realize that modern music sucks, and have turned to news radio. Eventually, when Pearl Jam and Blink 182 start showing up on the oldies stations, I’ll start listening to music radio again. But as long as WHFS only wants to play that Korn and Limp Bizkit crap, well, I ain’t listening. You kids call that music?
And yet I go out and buy Diablo II and am trying to finish it ASAP so I can start playing Wacky Racers on my friend’s DreamCast.
I still spend an occasional weekend chasing around friends with padded weapons.
But it hurts a lot worse when I wake up the next morning.
techchick and the others are right- it is cool to have so much money coming in.
Except that I’m trying to save up for serious purchases like groceries and maybe a house some day.
My parents are still idiots who don’t understand me.
But I expect that’ll be the case when I’m 60, so it doesn’t prove anything.
I turned twenty-eight three weeks ago.
No, JC, not news radio - it’s the first sign of geezerhood!
A young 46 year old checking in here. Still listen to new music of various rock radio formats, still like to get out a bit (unfortunately, my wife’s more stay-at-home), and I probably dance better now than when I was half my age, although admittedly that’s not saying much.
You made the dreadful mistake of actually admitting you’d do this on the message boards–giving me the opportunity to send my own surrogate.
(Ever see that Get Smart episode where Agent 86 trades a Control Secret Weapon for the Chief, who was held hostage by Kaos?)
“It worked, 99, we tossed them a fake XJ-11”
::picks up mannequin::
“And they tossed us a fake Chief” :eek:
Your pals would actually dress up in drag if you asked them to? You must have some loyal friends (assuming they don’t normally dress this way)–I’n not sure I’d dress up in drag if my life depended on it.
(Oh, and what would you do if I found the person you sent to be as attractive, or more attractive, than you?)
Yeah, I can imagine: me, peering through two holes in a newspaper, sitting in the airport terminal, watching my surrogate. DRY, in the parking lot, binoculars fixed on the baggage claim area and cell phone clutched in hand, waiting for his surrogate’s call.
I hate to break this to you, hon, but I’m not going to be spying on my surrogate. I’m going to hire a spy to spy on my surrogate.
And hope that my surrogate’s spy can’t be corrupted. Maybe I’ll have someone spy on him.
While I’m at it, I’m going to hire someone else who’ll conduct surveillance on anyone who appears to be reading a newspaper. And hope that I’d never have occasion to use that line from “Weapons of Mass Distraction”:
“Apparently, HIS rotten spying bastards are a whole lot better than MY rotten spying bastards.”
<nudge, nudge, wink, wink>