Getting Old

The other day my Mom texted me to let me know her phone doesn’t work.

Let that sink in.

Getting old is rough.

Have you ever watched a TV show a bunch and then thought to yourself “This is getting old.” That’s what getting old is like. But you’re watching your own life. And the only commercials you get are the rare moments you black out because you’ve drank so much because you are just goddamn tired of watching yourself eat another helping of cheesesticks at Red Robin, alone on a Wednesday night.

I suppose I noticed I was getting old way back when I was a toddler and noticed that I could walk. I remember looking up at my Mom, who was ecstatic, and thinking “Man, I’m getting old.”

But it really starts to hit home when you’re thirty. All of a sudden drinking nine beers and eating a whole large pizza means you gain a pound or two. Gone are the days you could just hang out at a buffet all day and just kinda live there. Like the waiters are walking by and wondering if you’ll leave, but you’re able to shove a french fry in your mouth every few minutes just so you can claim that you are still eating.

Also, you start getting gray hair. People think it’s funny and will poke fun - “Hey, you got gray hair.” Or “Hey, you have gray hair, mister.” or “Hey, what’s with the gray hair?” or “Hey, gray beard!” But you won’t laugh. You will cry and whisper “It’s not funny; I’m dying.”

Because you are. Every last second on this Earth you are dying. Every breath you take is one step closer to death. Like you’re watching the new Star Wars movie and you think you’re enjoying it, but really you’re dying.

Other things start happening as well. You start getting ailments that old people get. Like Wright Brothers Disease or Fatty Arbuckle Syndrome. You go to the doctor and he has no idea how to treat these diseases because he’s like 29 and you’re old. So he hands you some pills and tells you have to stop drinking. But you don’t want to stop drinking. Then he says “I mean, just not in my office.” and then you throw the bottle of Jack Daniels at him and wake up in a Denny’s.

A lot of people will try to overcome age by exercising. Just stop it. Give it up. I believe in an all powerful God and when he starts making me age I follow. If you go out and jog and you get all out of breath that’s God saying STOP IT! God doesn’t like phonies, so quit acting like a phony. You’re old now. Go drink some Early Times and watch Lawrence Welk. God is watching.

Another thing that starts happening is your hair starts falling out. You’ll be walking down the street and the wind will blow and you’re bald. It happens that fast. Then everyone starts poking fun by saying things like “Hey, you’re bald.” or “Hey, you have a bald head, mister” or “Hey, what’s with the bald head?” or “Hey, bald beard!” But you won’t think it’s funny because you had some big plans for that hair. You were gonna braid it.

Some people, thinking they can cheat God, will try to go out and get plastic surgery. They’ll go in and say “Hey, Doc, can you make me look younger?” And the doctor will shake his head and say “No.” But I can turn you into a woman.” Then you’ll say “Will that make me look younger?” And he’ll shake his head. Then you do it anyway and now you’re an old lady. Good job, dipshit.

Another thing you start doing when you get old is crack cocaine.

Just joking. You don’t start doing that because you’re old, you start doing that because you are really loaded and this guy you hang out with offers it to you because he’s super weird and you wonder why you’re hanging out with him and then you remember you got really drunk with him because he was the guy who called you “bald beard” and you slugged him and then he slugged you back, but then you made up and went for a beer and then he offered you crack.

That’s another thing - your memory goes. Like, for instance, I was watching the History channel and they were talking about the Magna Carta or something and I was like “I totally don’t remember that. I don’t remember being back there in those weird clothes and signing that thing. I’M LOSING MY MIND!” But then you realize that you didn’t live back in those times and you couldn’t have remembered that. But then you think - what if I did and I just forgot. So then you call all your relatives and ask if you lived in 1215 and they all say No. But then you realize that they’re all old. Also, they’re all liars. Like Uncle Doug. That guy could lie his way out of a bed. This one time he told me that we were going to get ice cream, but he stopped at the Post Office and I was like “I thought we were going to go get ice cream.” And he said we were, he just needed to stop at the Post Office first. But going to the Post Office isn’t going for ice cream. And I explained that. Then he turned the car around and started calling me a shit and we never got ice cream because he was a liar.

What’s really sad about getting old is watching other people get old. I have this aunt, Aunt Maria. She’s old. I go over to her house every weekend and just watch her get old. She’ll sit in this rocking chair and I’ll just stare at her and cringe and say things like “Oh, man, you’re old” or “You’re really getting old today” or “Hey, old beard!”. Also, she’s not my real aunt.

Another thing that starts happening is you start liking stuff old people like. Like food. You’ll sit and talk about food. Like back in the day it was all about living life in the fast lane: women, drugs, and music. But now you’re old and you just talk about food. Like “Hey, what’s for dinner” or “Did you taste the so and so at so and so” and “Hey, food beard”. Or you’ll talk about housing prices, 401Ks, and inane TV shows. What I typically do is something like this:

Person: Hey, did you try that new gastropub on -

And I’ll cut them off and just go: CUT THE SHIT!

You have no idea how young I look when I’m telling someone to cut the shit.

Then there’s children. They’re all over the place when you get old. Everyone has a kid. They walk around and everyone thinks they’re cute, but they are just reminders of how old you are. And you sit down and you try to talk to them and you don’t even understand what language they’re speaking. Like my nephew, Joe. He’s a one year old. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t understand the music he listens to. And I’m pretty sure he drinks because he vomits every time I go over there.

And no one cares about how they look. Once I was a great looking man, and now look at me: I’m 450 pounds, have no hair, and vomit a lot. No one likes that. Thanks, God.

This getting old business is just not right. It’s the one thing God got wrong. Like polio or The Voice. They say God works in mysterious ways, so, maybe getting old is a mystery. I’m good at solving mysteries. Like this one time I woke up and someone puked all over my kitchen. I spent the day solving the mystery. Turns out it was me. Or this one dude named Tim that sold me crack. Point is: I nailed it down to two people and the investigation is ongoing.

I guess I won’t solve America’s aging problem. It would probably be easier just to move to France or some country that doesn’t make you age. But I’m old. And I’m too tired now to go hunting mysteries in France.