Thursday, June 5, 2008

Being An Old Lady Is Gonna Suck

And I mean that in the nicest way possible or something.

I just spent a good amount of time thinking about this. Why? Because I'm just that efficient at everything else in life. So I had a few experiences with some "old ladies" this morning that set this train of thought into motion. I'll get to those in a minute, but first lets break down what it takes to be an appropriately crotechedy old lady.

Persnickety:

I'm pretty sure that I will never, ever be able to pull off the level of persnickety bullshit it takes to be a successful old woman. I just don't care enough about what those around me are doing or wearing to do this correctly.

I think you have to actually be able to use the term persnickety in a sentence without sounding like a total tool too.

However, there is hope because I do feel like bitching loudly or ramming my car into the achilles tendons of other people who block the produce I deem "purchasable" at the grocer's.

Never will I yell at my husband in the grocery store while he stands idly by ignoring me until he tells me to "Shut up you old bat".

Just saying.

Poor driving skills:

I just don't think I will ever be short enough or have the level of osteporosis necessary to actually look at the road through the steering wheel, rather than over it. All while balancing my little dog (that I already have) and adjusting my free rain hood that I got at the bank last week.

I might, just might go ahead and make that quick left turn at the stop light while you are still processing that the light just turned green though. I mean, I might be old but I'm pretty sure my reflexes will be quick enough to outwit you at this juncture and then give you the stink eye as I go careening onto the cross street.

This actually happened this morning.

At this point I have run out of witty things to say about old people. Perhaps it's that my tits already sag into my doubl- knit pants that even today's old people should not be old enough to actually wear, yet they do.

So I ran errands on my way to work this morning. First, I stopped at the grocery store where I was strongly reprimanded by the old lady ringing me up. Why? Because I placed my 24-pack of Diet Coke on the conveyor belt. I did this because the last time the lady looked at me like I was lazy for leaving it in the cart.

But this morning's sweet, old darling told me repeatedly that I should have just left it in the cart because she was smart enough to have the code written down. Didn't I think she was smart enough?

But in the end it was okay, because she continued on to tell me, repeatedly again, that I just didn't know. Like today's youth group of 30-somethings just doesn't have a clue.

Kids today.

During this entire barage of guilt laden ranting, I was trying desperately to listen to the crazy hag that was sacking my groceries. She spent the entire time talking to herself. Not in the "I'm talking but no one is listening" way but in the "I'm talking and no one EVER listens" way.

It was an entire monologue about how she was just too old to deal with this shit. I think she was annoyed by 24-pack granny and wanted to enjoy retirement peacefully, drinking scotch, the way God intended.

I don't really know.

I realize I risk sounding disrespectful to my elders but that's okay. They were all fucking looney tunes this morning and I saw myself headed down that same path. And when I get there I hope somebody tells me how much I suck...

Like the dried up raisin at the post office. Who had typed all of her envelopes to mail her bills in and wanted a return receipt for each bill she was mailing.

I waited patiently, but then nearly lost my shit when she started telling the postal worker how to do her job.

So when I finally start making my own t-shirts the very first one is going to say:

Being An Old Lady Sucks

Because it does and you can true dat.

16 comments:

Dirty Pirate Hooker said...

true dat!

I hope I NEVER become my grandmother. I would rather just be offed now if that is my future!

I will promise to tell you if you suck when you're old.

J said...

You suck.


Not.


Here is something that you reminded me of. It is called 'Warning' by Jenny Joseph.

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.



PS. The word verification says Vriot I think it says a lot that the word verification on your page says 'riot' because thats what you are.

Lara said...

HEY

It's not THAT bad being old. I should know.

But the grinding knees DO make me cranky sometimes.

Damn. my word verification is ucxold When I say that, it comes out "u sucks old"

Someone hates me today. And I fucking hate word verification in return. It's just fair.

Viva Scrapper! said...

I was at the post office and there was a little old lady who had a bunch of bills in plain envelopes that she wanted the postal worker to look up the addresses for her.
"I need to send this to the social security office! What's the address?!"
I mean didn't they put the address on the bill or whatever they sent you to prompt you to mail something back?

Jan-o-riffic said...

I can't wait to get old. I'm going to fart in public, never do my hair or makeup, eat candy all day and say "You damn kids get off my lawn" every chance I get!

Lily's Mommy said...

First off, I usually never have a problem with old people... just LATELY. What the fuck is with them???

Is the apocalypse coming and they're all getting antsy? WTF?

I especially enjoy being tsk tsked at the grocery store if I'm blocking them, but I have to yell EXCUSE ME, five times and then tap their arm before old blue hair ass fungus deigns to notice me.

BTW, by old, I mean 70 at least. Cuz I'm 37, bitches, and that means 40 is going to be young soon. Got it??

I'm going to go and get some rest so I'm not so gnarly. And I love the "Warning" thing, poem?

Immoral Matriarch said...

Yessss....
TRUE DAT!

I am Trish Marie said...

You forgot to mention how when you get older, you get to stop every person and tell them all about your health problems.... over and over. Especially your lack of bladder control.

Captain Steve said...

When I get old, I am going to have blue hair. I have always wanted to be a blue haired granny.

Julia said...

My elder sister called our mother to complain about turning forty. She then said OMG in ten years I'll be fifty. To which our mother replied, "If you're lucky." Personality develops very early and tends to stay pretty much the same for a lifetime, no? Your blog is very pretty.

Chickie said...

I never want to go get old. For reals.

Kat said...

I could ad to the list of crazy old lady stuff - I lived in FL for 10 years, and that place is full of 'em.

Have to say, though, that those of us who are 30-something now are going to be an entirely different breed of "crazy old lady". The youngsters will be irritated with us because our fake tits STILL don't sag, because we say 'fuck' so much, and because we drive too damn fast. Anyway - I hope that's what they're complaining about. Cuz that sounds a lot more fun than being a crazy old bitch working in a supermarket, no?

LunaNik said...

I dread becoming an old lady. I just KNOW that I'll repeat myself like a hundred times and constantly bug my grandchildren by asking them if their food is hot enough. Hmph.

Trouble said...

Dude.

You're looking at this the wrong way. When you get old, move yourself and Jason to Florida, and we'll go to shows together, WITH OUR WALKERS. And we'll yell at the kids in the mosh pit and I'll tell them I moshed at the BLACK FLAG concert in 1986, FFS, and what the hell is wrong with their pansy little arses?

And we can take our hearing aids out and the bands will sound JUST RIGHT.

And, we can pull up our shirts and show off our trampy tattoos and scare the youngtsters.

We will rock, as old women go.

capricorn1966 said...

Being afraid of death makes getting old unbearable. It's only a number they would say, it's all in the way you feel. I don't give a fuck how I feel that number is one year closer to death and I'm not digging that.

Plus old people are ugly.

It took me six months to get over being forty when my daughter told me I was going to be a grandmother. I cried for another three months and started smoking pot.

I guess being a granny entitles you to do what ever you want.

Maggie, Dammit said...

*sigh*

I love you.

(why do I feel like I've left this exact same comment here, like, a hundred times before?)

*double sigh*