Hi there.
I'm home from a date and you'll never, ever...in a million years guess where he took me so I'll just tell you. He took me to play Bingo.
The really sad part of the situation is that I enjoyed it...just a bit.
Oh well, at least I didn't date one of the old farts that run the VFW hall where we played. Those guys are really, really old. They're like crooked old...they're almost all bent over.
It occurred to me that I have dated men twenty years younger than myself and if an old fart did that, he could end up with me and it wouldn't be as unreasonable as I think it should be. Yikes. I have to face it, the days when old men are a serious option are quickly approaching.
Now I know how Ethel Mertz felt. That lady was annoyed that she could be believed to be married to an old fart like Fred. The lady who played Ethel was in her mid 30's when she played that role so I am actually much older than Ethel and that's just old. Older then Ethel...damn, that's a bitch.
And they don't tell you all about the old stuff, do they? They take you to a special class to tell you about puberty and when you have kids, they tell you what to expect but no one, ever...tells you what happens to you as you get older. So, I thought that I would enlighten you a bit.
Did you know that SHIT GROWS OFF OF YOU?! Yes, shit starts just sprouting off of your body as though new buds were forming. I'll never know what they eventually become, I have them removed. But, new crap just keeps growing back. I don't know what they are and maybe one day I'll let one grow out of curiosity, but for now I just have the doc hack 'em off.
Then, for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you get big brown spots all over. They're sort of like freckles only slightly raised. Just enough to make you think you can scratch them off but you can't, not without bleeding a lot anyway.
Once you start to get used to the spots, hair will grow where there once was none. I have hair on my big toe and I never did before. Like the rest of my body hair, it's light enough so that nobody can see it. But whilst doing a recent body inspection, I found the offending hairs myself.
Oh, this is an odd one...you can have the same blackhead for twenty years. Hell, for all I know, we die with the same ones that we first met in nigh school.
You know what makes you truly feel old? Being the right age for anything that Ed McMahon sells. The funeral home industry is marketing to my age group and that just FREAKS ME OUT!
Here in Marietta, they have this thing they call The Big Chicken. It's a two story chicken on top of a one story chicken restaurant. It's a great big tacky chicken that KFC inherited and when they tried to tear it down, they met great resistance from the community who couldn't give directions to each other without the reference, "You know where the Big Chicken is?...".
So, instead they just started selling t-shirts and post cards. I'll find a picture of that stupid thing and post it if I can.
Anyway, my point (and I do have one), is that as I was stopped at the intersection with my date on the way to Bingo, I looked up at that ridiculous bird with it's eyes spinning and it's beak opening and closing and thought that it was Rick laughing at me.
I left Chicago for that cretin and went to Virginia. That was one thing, I had family in Virginia. But then I ended up here, he's back where he started and I'm stuck here with this big, dumb chicken.
And, on top of all that, I didn't even come close to winning.
See ya,
Meg
I'm home from a date and you'll never, ever...in a million years guess where he took me so I'll just tell you. He took me to play Bingo.
The really sad part of the situation is that I enjoyed it...just a bit.
Oh well, at least I didn't date one of the old farts that run the VFW hall where we played. Those guys are really, really old. They're like crooked old...they're almost all bent over.
It occurred to me that I have dated men twenty years younger than myself and if an old fart did that, he could end up with me and it wouldn't be as unreasonable as I think it should be. Yikes. I have to face it, the days when old men are a serious option are quickly approaching.
Now I know how Ethel Mertz felt. That lady was annoyed that she could be believed to be married to an old fart like Fred. The lady who played Ethel was in her mid 30's when she played that role so I am actually much older than Ethel and that's just old. Older then Ethel...damn, that's a bitch.
And they don't tell you all about the old stuff, do they? They take you to a special class to tell you about puberty and when you have kids, they tell you what to expect but no one, ever...tells you what happens to you as you get older. So, I thought that I would enlighten you a bit.
Did you know that SHIT GROWS OFF OF YOU?! Yes, shit starts just sprouting off of your body as though new buds were forming. I'll never know what they eventually become, I have them removed. But, new crap just keeps growing back. I don't know what they are and maybe one day I'll let one grow out of curiosity, but for now I just have the doc hack 'em off.
Then, for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you get big brown spots all over. They're sort of like freckles only slightly raised. Just enough to make you think you can scratch them off but you can't, not without bleeding a lot anyway.
Once you start to get used to the spots, hair will grow where there once was none. I have hair on my big toe and I never did before. Like the rest of my body hair, it's light enough so that nobody can see it. But whilst doing a recent body inspection, I found the offending hairs myself.
Oh, this is an odd one...you can have the same blackhead for twenty years. Hell, for all I know, we die with the same ones that we first met in nigh school.
You know what makes you truly feel old? Being the right age for anything that Ed McMahon sells. The funeral home industry is marketing to my age group and that just FREAKS ME OUT!
Here in Marietta, they have this thing they call The Big Chicken. It's a two story chicken on top of a one story chicken restaurant. It's a great big tacky chicken that KFC inherited and when they tried to tear it down, they met great resistance from the community who couldn't give directions to each other without the reference, "You know where the Big Chicken is?...".
So, instead they just started selling t-shirts and post cards. I'll find a picture of that stupid thing and post it if I can.
Anyway, my point (and I do have one), is that as I was stopped at the intersection with my date on the way to Bingo, I looked up at that ridiculous bird with it's eyes spinning and it's beak opening and closing and thought that it was Rick laughing at me.
I left Chicago for that cretin and went to Virginia. That was one thing, I had family in Virginia. But then I ended up here, he's back where he started and I'm stuck here with this big, dumb chicken.
And, on top of all that, I didn't even come close to winning.
See ya,
Meg
posted by Meg Kelso | 10:01 PM
3 Comments:
come on, Meg. I've seen plenty of people who have things growing out of 'em and they're not even old. Oh, but I guess you haven't been on a NYC subway.
And there's nothing wrong with being all bent over. One can get into places one previously wouldn't have been able to crawl under!
Okay, what I really wanted to do was stop by and say hello!
Oh, it's good to hear someone describe the weird things I am experiencing, too. I am in my late 40s and I have those skin tags (I even wrote a post on them a while back) and that weird freckle thing, too. Damn. Are you as old as I am? Also, I think a Bingo date can be charming as long as you're doing it in a kitschy way, not a serious, I-come-here-every-Friday-night kind of a way.
It was a sweet date, at least I didn't have to explain why I had to say, "No thank you, I don't drink and if I did, I could go to jail for a probation violation."
As to my age, I'm 48. I was born June, 29, 1958. But, as soon as I can, I'm having that legally changed to 1968.
OK, I just got home from shopping for the cook-top. I ebded up having to order it anyway. No one stocks the 36 inch tops, they all have the 30 inch. AND...they charge a hundred bucks for that last 6 inches.
So, now I'm going to make beef stroganoff for my date who went home to feed his dogs and then he's coming back. I have to pay him back for the ride to the store. That'll be fun:):):)
See ya later!
Meg
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