Old People

((Here's your Trigger Warning:  This post is going to be filled with ageist commentary that is likely to offend you if you love old people, or if you just have a normal human person mentality.  I wouldn't advise reading any further if that's the case, because in following with my tradition of being a miserable bitch who loves to complain, things are going to get ugly.  Also, I am almost delirious from the level of tired I am, so most of the arguments I'm putting forth in this post are going to make no logical sense and may even border on hypocrisy.  It will help to keep in mind that I plan on making a sister post to this one about Teenagers.))

Old people fucking suck.  I just wanted to start by putting that out there, in case we were unclear about my underlying opinion.  I will concede that there are some major exceptions to this general rule - if you're old as shit, but don't offer your opinion about everything, try to convert me to Christianity, complain about the food at every eating establishment we visit, ask me for technological help, or gripe on the fact that the "young generation" is driving the world into the ground, then I probably think your pretty okay.  If you're old and you tell interesting stories about badass shit you and your 1940's hoodrat friends used to do, then even better.  But if you are a senior citizen, let's say 65+ (though we will round up in the event an example is 63 or 64), and you do any of those things that I just listed not even a moment ago (can you remember?), I more than likely think that you are slowly ruining my life.

All of this sounds incredibly harsh, but let's just break it down and see if you don't agree with me: for starters, how many people WANT to get old?

That's right, no one is raising their hand.  Also, the teacher has a tremendous bush.

Getting old is one of the most frightening things facing our rich-ass, American society.  Can you even fathom the amount of money companies like Olay make on their anti-aging creams/serums?  Why do you think every celebrity/rich person pays out of their asshole to get Botox at regularly scheduled intervals?  No one wants to get old.  Being young is like, THE thing, and not to sound like a douche (which I already do), but being young is fucking awesome.  Think about - all of your limbs are in working condition, your skin is more elastic than the waistband of Pajama Jeans, and losing weight is something that you can do in a matter of a week.  When you're old, like senior citizen old, your entire body betrays you - it either gives you awful medical issues or else makes you look like a wet napkin that someone left on the floor of a mall food court.  I guess the point I'm making here is that being old is the fucking worst, and because I can't understand why anyone would ever want to continuing living once their bodies start falling apart, I am predisposed to hating anyone who does.  It's the most human trick in the book: if you don't understand something, hate it with a burning passion.

For instance, Rachel Ray - I don't understand how she is alive/famous, so I hate her.  The concept is simple.

At the most base level, then, old people freak me out.  They represent something that we all know is inevitable and that we all are afraid of - aging and dying.  When we tack on the NUMEROUS annoying things they do, it comes as no surprise that old people are on my shit list.

THINGS SENIOR CITIZENS DO THAT I CANNOT FUCKING DEAL WITH.

1.  Old people move slowly.  Yes, I know, your joints aren't working and your doctor forgot to prescribe you extra WD-40 to get them going again, I get it.  But do you REALLY have to be walking directly in front of me on the sidewalk?  It's like, either I can stay behind you and look retarded for walking in slow motion, or I can be that dickfuck who squeezes past and essentially shows off how young and movement-able I am.  You're putting me into a corner here, and I don't like it.

2.  Old people driving.  GET.  OFF.  OF.  THE.  ROAD.  If you are legally blind, you have absolutely no business being behind the wheel.  My mom has this little dog, a shih tzu (yes I had to look up the proper spelling) named Holly, and I am ninety percent sure that if I created a fake license for her and gave her the keys to my piece of fuck Toyota Camry, she could do a better job driving than these "Senior Citizens on the Go".  Also, where the fuck are you going?  It's either the grocery store or the doctor's office, and either way, those are things we call "errands".  The goal is to get them done as quickly as possible.  Let's.  GO.

Maybe old people are actually extremely adept drivers who are all in on some big conspiracy to piss everyone off.  Whatever the case may be, if you don't get out of the way of my car, I will personally see to it that those funeral arrangements you pre-arranged get carried out a lot sooner than anyone expected.

3. Technology and the Elderly: When My Problem Becomes Your Problem.  My grandma is a pretty tech-savvy woman.  She sends out emails on the reg about everything she has done all day and even knows how to attach photos and get fancy with links and such.  But while Grandma knows the ins and outs of email, she seems to have a deadly mix of an obsession with digital picture frames, and complete lack of knowledge on how to get the pictures onto the frame.  EVERY.  SINGLE.  FAMILY.  FUNCTION.  is riddled with exclamations about how the fucking digital picture frame "must be broken because it's not accepting any of the new pictures, and will you help me to put the pictures on there because it just does not seem to be working for me!"  Okay, fine.  I will remove myself from the Christmas festivities and work on your picture frame.  Do you want me to teach you how to do it?

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you wish you had never said it and also never been born, because you know the next forty to ninety minutes of your life is going to be a slow-grinding death waltz of trying to show Grandma just how a USB port works.

I would say I hope they aren't reading this blog, but let's be serious, they've probably just been staring at the desktop background for the past fifty minutes mutually wondering when it was exactly that they took a trip out to a rolling green field.

If you didn't know that I was referencing this, fuck you.

And that's just a digital picture frame.  Have you ever tried to explain to an old person what Facebook is?  I mean really sat down and tried to explain how it works - the writing on walls, the privacy settings, what your status is, how the newsfeed works, everything?  Because I have, and let me tell you something, that is an hour and a half of my life that I will literally never get back.

4.  Old people smell like dust and cats.  Even if they don't own a cat and their house is spotless.  How is that possible?

5.  The excessive judgment/religious sentiments and your subsequent need to act like an entirely different person when in the presence of a senior citizen.  Every holiday, I have to cover up my tattoos, take out my nose ring, and dress like a conservative Mormon to avoid the discerning eyes of my elderly family members.  It's as though my very presence as a Young Person offends them, and I need to fit myself into this mold of solid Christian looks and sturdy conservative beliefs so as not to offend their sensitive old people values.  HERE'S THE THING THOUGH: THEY'VE HAD THEIR TIME.  Old people have had a solid 70 years of living their lives in the way they see fit, so why are they trying to push their ass backwards religious judgments on me to make me fit into some prototype example human being that no longer exists in today's world?  Take a look around - almost everyone has body modifications, dresses like a stripper, and curses like they were raised below the poverty level.  I'm not condoning it all, but there comes a point in time when you just have to adjust, and old people are never willing to give in even an inch.  Am I saying my grandfather should go out and get a sleeve while rapping Nicki Minaj's "Superbass"?  No, although that would be awesome.  All I'm saying is that I should be allowed to be the person I am the other 6 days a week on the one day that I have to be around my grandparents.  Is that asking too much?

This lady gets it.

6.  Old people - old customs.  The burning feeling of shame that one feels when one's grandfather SNAPS his FINGERS to get the attention of the waitress while out to dinner is probably only equivalent to the burning one feels when one has a flare up of genital herpes.  Maybe this sort of gesture was appropriate back in the fifties, and maybe it was also appropriate to back then to wink at every girl you talked to and call them all "Sugarpie" and "Honey", but guess what - that shit borders on sexual harassment now.  It's become extremely difficult to tell the difference between an innocent old guy who is truly stuck in another decade and a dirty old man who is just capitalizing on the fact that you might assume he's his purer counterpart, and the distinction between the two is worth a hell of a lot in terms of sweet vs. icky internal feelings.  Regardless of the potential for gross old man encounters, there are certain things that are rude now that weren't back in the day, and while I am all for the First Time Forgiveness Rule (you know, the one you used back in high school when you banged your boyfriend for the first time and it lasted one minute and thirty seconds and you were all "it's okay!  We'll just practice!"?  That's not a personal anecdote, but just something you could relate to if you wanted), repeated offenses are unacceptable.  It's like when you travel to another country and there are entirely different customs - the first time you mess up, it's okay to laugh it off, but out of general respect (which is something we've already determined that old people lack for anyone other than themselves) you make sure you know the proper course of etiquette for next time.

You decide: is this gross or is this okay?  I'm talking about that girl's horribly misinformed outfit, not about the old guy's wandering hands.

7.  Imagine two old people fucking.  Game, set, match, bitches.

I am entirely aware that everything I've just written both sounds like shit and is utterly ageist - I might be an idiot, but at least I know it.  The whole thing just boils down to what I said before about old people representing something very raw and very real about the human condition, namely the fact that we are all going to die someday.  Personally, as soon as I find out I have some form of cancer (which, let's face it, we're ALL going to have . . . there is no way these wifi signals are good for our bodies) or that I have osteoporosis/any other medical affliction, I'm hopping on the one-way Death Express.  I don't want to spend my remaining years alive slowly deteriorating and knowing that some smart ass twenty something is writing lengthy blog posts about how much I fucking suck.  You might disagree - a lot of people are into that whole idea of "growing old with someone they love" or whatever.  But while that sounds real cute and all,  growing old with someone is probably a lot more emotionally scarring than you would think.  Plus, do we really want someone like me around on this Earth for longer than the average life expectancy?  I didn't think so, and it's these elderly-induced morbid thoughts that are the reason old people are slowly ruining my life.

A Three-Part List

I haven't been able to write on this blog for a while now - not for lack of ideas (because believe me, I have more than enough topics I could bitch about), but because I've been weirdly depressed and trying to sort myself out.  HOWEVER MY FRIENDS, that strange one month ish period of my life is drawing to a close because today, right now, at THIS very moment, I have decided to sit here and take my Klonopin and write out a brand.  new.  post.  And not just any brand new post, but a post that contains a brief list of NOT JUST ONE, but SEVERAL things that are slowly ruining my life.

 All of that rainbow puke you're chundering up will do an excellent job of hiding the boner you just popped over the fact that I'm writing in this again.

So, let's get this Donkey show on the road, shall we?*

Unsolicited Advice:

Remember those times growing up when you would be trying to hook up the N64 and your siblings would all be breathing their hot pizza breath over your shoulder, saying things like "No dude it goes in the other slot" and you're all "What slot?" and they're like "The other one" and no one is using their fingers to point to which fucking slot your supposed to plug the wires into and everyone is offering you all of this advice on how to set this N64 up but it isn't working, and everything you seem to be doing is not good enough for anyone and the pressure boils over so you throw the N64 on the ground, and then later when mom comes home she's like "Who broke the N64?" and that's when your siblings finally decide to use their fingers to point to something and it's you and everyone hates you?  Remember that?

Okay, maybe I did more than just throw it on the ground.

It's like, I could have set up that N64 in a fucking HEARTBEAT had I not been put under the pressure of everyone watching and offering their two cents.  I mean, right off the bat there is that saying "giving your two cents" - do you not realize that the phrase is JUST two cents because WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH TWO CENTS?  Do you know what I do with two cents?  I throw it in the garbage.  I'm not even rich and I literally take pennies and I put them in the trash can and I think to myself "Fuck these pennies, what am I going to ever buy with these pennies?"  And I know, I KNOW, there are people starving in Malaysia (and America . . . have we seen Angelina Jolie lately?  Christ), but the point that I'm trying so desperately to make here is that I don't want your two cents.  Keep your two cents.  Don't offer me advice when I did not explicitly ask for it.

Don't even start with me, Ben - I will tape your eyes open and make you watch as I melt down pennies into a large copper dagger that I will then stab you with.

Simply put, unsolicited advice is the worst because it makes you question your every move, double-guessing yourself so that you eventually wind up messing up anyway, and then everyone who is offering you this advice that you don't even WANT in the first place just sits there and laughs at you and tells mom you broke the N64.  The thing I don't get is how unsolicited advice literally comes from everyone.  The other day, for instance, I was ordering a chicken salad sandwich from a deli and after I placed my order with the deli guy, the woman standing next to me taps me on the shoulder and goes "You're not going to like that, they use WAY too much mayo." 

And in my head, I'm like: I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that you knew everything about my personal preferences.  I actually happen to love mayonnaise.  For all you know, I'm going to go home with this chicken salad sandwich and slather it all over my naked body and if I was a boy, I would totally get a boner over it because maybe that's how much I fucking LOVE mayonnaise, so next time you want to take your bony little finger out of your K-Mart brand business pants pocket and tap me on the shoulder so you can inform me that I, a complete stranger, am not going to like something, you can think again and remember to keep your mouth shut, you bumbling thundercunt.

But of course, instead of saying all of that, I just looked at her and said "I like mayo", and then she said "Oh well you'll love it then" and then the guy handed me my sandwich and I opened it and took a bite while staring at her.  And then I left the store.

Bottom line:  Unless I am in serious, life-threatening peril, or I look at you and say "Hey what do I do I need help", take your two cents and your opinions on mayonnaise and keep them to yourself.

People Who Used to Be Fat That Have Recently Become Thin

Everyone knows at least one person who has gone through the dramatic transformation of dropping 40+ pounds, and I want to start off by saying seriously, good for them.  Losing weight isn't an easy thing at all.  This one time junior year I responded to a break up by eating everything in sight and I gained like, 10 pounds.  It took me four solid weeks of puking after meals to get back down to my normal, pretty girl weight, and like, that was only 10 pounds.  Imagine how many weeks you'd have to go bulimic to drop 40+?!?!

I don't even want to try to caption this.  I'll just leave it here for you to think about.

The thing that gets to me about these people who used to be fat isn't that they are now skinny and I can no longer stand next to them to look thin, but rather it's the fact that the ONLY thing they seem to be capable of talking about is how much weight they've lost.  It's the worst kind of compliment fishing - am I supposed to tell you you look so much better now that you aren't obese, or what?  What do you want me to say?  "Good job on weighing a lesser amount than you did five weeks ago, you realize we are all going to die no matter how much we weigh (only now maybe you won't die fat and alone)"?  Is that the right thing I'm supposed to respond with?  I have no problem offering one initial compliment to these people - they just accomplished this like, totally epic goal they had and deserve a solid pat on the back.  But if I start complimenting you on your tremendous weight loss, then you're going to keep talking to me about it, and do you honestly think I want to hear about how you go for a run every twenty minutes and how you only eat a slice of lettuce for breakfast and a protein shake for dinner?  If you want to go toe to toe with fucked up eating habits, walk on to a college campus and initiate a conversation with the nearest girl wearing sorority letters.  She will laugh at you and then give you her secret diet plan of adderall, diet coke, and anal sex (because what work-out could make you sweat more, AMIRIGHT? Lolz).  I'm just over it after about five minutes, not because I'm not really happy for you, but because you talking to me about how much you work out reminds me that I am the laziest fuck in the world, and that you, an ex-fat person, would be able to out-sprint me if, say, we were being chased by a large grizzly bear.  I would be mauled because I have neither the stamina nor the body frame to support working out, and that's just not something I want to think about in the middle of the day.

It's ironic because this is what fat people look like when someone touches their Oreos.

Bottom Line:  It's awesome that you used to be fat, but shut the fuck up about it because no one in this world cares about anything unless it has to do with themselves.

Checking Voicemails

If you ever leave me a voicemail, may the Lord Jesus Howard Christ on his holy little cross in heaven have mercy on your soul because the fury I feel at having to punch in my password and sort through all the fucking options with that robot bitch of a voice taking her sweet ass time to actually LET me listen to my messages is absolutely immeasurable.  It makes me want to light myself on fire. 

"Please enter your password, then press pound."

The only person who I give permission to leave me voicemails is my technologically handicapped neanderthal father who's hands are far too large for me to ever think he will be capable of texting.  And you know what, his voicemails are usually very nice - "I miss you, I'm proud of you, thanks for not throwing up in my mouth when you were a baby", the usual parent stuff.  But voicemails from my friends?  Unless you are shit faced drunk and saying something so funny that you know I will immediately get diarrhea from laughing so hard, what are you fucking thinking?  You're ruining my life.

Bottom Line: If I don't have time to answer your phone call (i.e. if I'm screening your phone call because I don't want to talk to you), then I'm sure as shit not going to have the time to listen to your voicemail.

*Do NOT Google the phrase Donkey Show.