I’m Older Than I Am (aka Halfway To Midlife Crisis)
Posted by Bob Reinhard on July 22, 2010
I’m twenty-two years old.
Now, I’m not saying this for your benefit, because most of you probably already know this. I’m simply stating that fact so I can remind my brain to stop making me act like I’m seventy! And eleven. At the same time.
I’m finding it difficult to balance my bizarre child-like obsessions with my premature old-fuck moments. Trying to figure out if I should spend my money on orthopedic shoes or a big bag of candy. Working out fart jokes and thoughts about retirement. Writing a blog while I attempt to figure out how the hell to make this stupid DVD player work.
How in the hell does it work that I both seem much older, and way younger, than I actually am? Well, let’s break it down on the Bob’s Mental Age Timeline. We’ll start at my inner child and drive it home to Old Fart City (a town that even rivals Detroit for Worst Smelling Place To Live).
1) I love me some Pokemon – Oh, that’s right. I’d be willing to throw an elbow into the eye of a eight year old kid just to get the last copy of a Pokemon game. I’m a gamer at heart, and I know far too much about the world of Pocket Monsters. I play it regularly, and I play it with vigor and excitement. It’s addicting. It’s like cocaine, only you can’t get a hooker’s panties off with a Pikachu.
And it goes beyond the games. I love watching the cartoons. That’s some good quality television. Shit, I gladly chose to watch Pokemon over Lost. Pokemon makes more sense and seems to be better thought out anyway.
So, my inner kid loves to participate in a fiction equivalent of animal abuse. That’s basically what it is, if you get right down to it. You think it’s weird that Japan made a video game supporting animal abuse? Need I remind you this is the same culture that has rape video games? The Japanese are fuckin’ goofy.
I know, you all just went out and bought your kids, your cousins, whatever, the game. And now you’re wondering how I figure it’s about animal abuse. Well, since I know far too much about it for someone who also has to pay bills, I’ll break it down for you.
Step 1: Beat the fuck out of something to capture it
Step 2: Throw a ball at it’s head
Step 3: Trap it inside said prison and carry it around with you
Step 4: Use it to battle other animals (Michael Vick was a Pokemon Master for reals…)
Step 5: Force-Evolution so much it makes Darwin shit in his coffin
Lovely. So, not only does my childish age make me play the game, but my sinister adult sense of humor makes me see evil in it. I may need professional help. Thorazine, I choose you!
2) Candy is the base of my food pyramid – I’ve mentioned my candy obsession before.
Is it unhealthy? Oh sure. Am I going to put myself in a diabetic coma? Eventually. Do I give two squirts? That’s a big Fuck-Nope there.
3) Pee-Pee Jokes Are Happy-Fun-Time – Why write a sophisticated joke about politics or the state of the world when I can just as easily talk about my nardsack? If only I could combine the two…
4) Bills or Shiny Shit… Yeah, I’m goin’ with the shiny shit… - Fuck responsibility. Electricity isn’t that important, not when I can buy this friggin’ cool thing. It serves no useful purpose, but it’s cool looking and it makes noise and stuff. I’ll spend my money on this, and worry about feeding myself later.
5) BUNNY! – Chasing animals = always fun. Do I look like a buffoon while chasing a squirrel across the parking lot? Oh sure, but it’s got a puffy tail and I simply must touch it.
As you can see, I often act younger than I actually am. But I also have moments were I feel a few dozen years older. Moments I’m sure you all have.
1) …I could have fuckin’ sworn I came over here for something… – What is it about walking across the room that makes you forget why the fuck you walked across the room?! I often find myself standing in a room in my house, curious as to why the balls I wanted to be there in the first place. I’ll start investigating the room, hoping maybe I discover something that sparks my memory into reminding me why I’m there.
“Let’s see… nope, nothing in the medicine cabinet. In the shower? No, I didn’t need a shower. Perhaps the toi… OH YEAH! I had to pee…”
Yes. I have forgotten that I had to pee. Which leads me to my second old-fuck habit…
2) Peeing is like a game of chance – I have to pee. Then I have to pee again, twenty minutes later. And again in an hour. Did I drink something in the last ten minutes? Gotta pee it out, pronto. Flomax, I choose you!
On occasion, I’ll forget to pee, and my multiple urination-bursts will add up. And I’ll take a piss that takes slightly longer than cooking a baked potato. You know the piss, the one that consists of five stages:
Stage 1: Relief – “OH THANK GOD! I’ve had to pee since last Tuesday…”
Stage 2: Pleasure - “Wow… oh man, this feels like a massage for my urethra…”
Stage 3: Surprise - “Hah, holy shit… I didn’t even think I had room for this much liquid…”
Stage 4: Irritation – “Alright, come on. Let’s wrap it up…”
Stage 5: Fear – “Ok, pretty sure I should have stopped by now. Am I going to have to courtesy-flush my piss? I’m starting to feel light-headed…”
This is, of course, all assuming it comes out all in one consistent flow. Sometimes it’s like a lawn sprinkler.
PSH PSH PSH PSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… PSSSSSHHHHH…. PSSSH… PSH.
3) Now, how the hell did I lose… – Ever lost something within a three foot radius of where you currently are. And can’t find it for a year or two? I do it all the damn time. And after searching the dumbest fucking places, you find it in an even more dumb place.
“Alright, my keys aren’t in the freezer. I didn’t leave them in my cat’s litter box. I… holy shit, my keys are in the toaster…”
4) “Hey, do you want some…” “No, I can’t eat that, I’ll die.” – Remember when you could eat food, and that’d be the end of it? You eat it. And you forget about it. Not anymore. My body can’t process certain foods anymore. Not only will my stomach hurt, but random other parts of my body will hurt too.
“Wow, that was a delicious ham sandwich, but it made my knees hurt like a mother-shit.”
5) When I was your age… – Oh, you’re thirteen minutes younger than me? Allow me to tell you about the “Good Ol’ Days”. Here I am, standing by the vintage video game kiosk at Mall of America. The sixteen year old is playing his fancy new video game system, the one that you plug into your head and the game appears inside your mind. And here I am, staring at games that consist of “pixels” and telling him about the wonders of the Sega Genesis.
“I had one of these when I was like two. Oh man, that feels like three forevers ago. Wow, it’s been THAT long since this stuff was new?! If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go kill myself now…”
I’m not old by any means. And I still qualify as an adult (or as the Government puts it: “Taxable”). Eventually, things will start shifting in favor of the aged. And that’s when I’ll know I’m getting too old to be hip and cool. Not that I was hip and cool when I was young, but eventually it’ll be too late to even fake it.
By the way, I hope a 22 year old bitching about feeling like an old man makes everyone older than me feel ancient. The only way I’ll feel better about myself is tormenting you geezer fucks.