Signs of aging that they didn't tell you about

I'm fast approaching my 39th birthday in less than 2 months. It will be the last year of my 30's and the very thought scares the crap out of me. I just want to go back to 1992, where I can still drink and gamble but still have my youth. Nonetheless, I trudge on as if I have no other choice, well, because I don't have another choice.

The obvious things that are happening to my body like male pattern baldness, gray hairs, and general aches and pains are things I expected and things that are widely known about getting old. I'm sure one day I'll require reading glasses as I become farsighted, I may lose some of my sex drive and memory and I'll wear polyester shorts with black socks and a sweater in July. I'll probably shrink to 5 ft 3 from 6ft 1 by the year 2060, should I live so long, since the spine compresses as you age. Luckily those things haven't happened yet, however, some things have started to pop up that are really bumming me out as I had no clue I was destined to have such changes by age 40. For a public service and so people can benefit from my experience (see below), here they are outlined below-

• Your ears slowly spread out. My wife, Lynn, claims that this is a common fact but so far no one else I've talked to seems to know that it happens. But I've definitely noticed that my ears are catching more and more wind resistance when I walk down the street. Why I'm turning into Dumbo in my middle age is beyond me but apparently your cartilage keeps growing after your bones stop.
  
• You get attacked by moles. No, I'm not talking about those little blind fuckers that dig up your lawn. I'm referring to what they call age spots. I knew of age spots as a kid from that horrible commercial but had no idea that you get these awful marks all over your nose and face. The sun is just awful for you. So, kids, be sure to wear of plenty of sunscreen and don't stay out in the sun too long.
• You become a crank. The character of "grumpy old man" is a stalwart in the annuls of archetypes and recurring characters. They scream at the neighborhood kids to get off their lawn and they write long letters to the editor complaining how in the old days people would tip their fedoras and no one these days has any respect. (let alone fedoras) But as a teen, I always thought that these people were always that way. I thought an entire generation was full of whiners and cranks. Turns out that your brain shrinks as you get older causing you to become more cantankerous. If you don't believe I'm becoming more angry and irate in my old age, just look at my blog posts on Ebay and GE servicemen.
• You always have the answers for young people and try to give advice whether they ask for it or not. I'm at the age where I feel my experience should count for something. I also find myself dispensing advice to people younger than me even if they look squeamish and like they wish to leave to go do something dangerous and impulsive. I think to myself, "If only these 20-something year old brats would listen to me, I've been through something similar before and they could make their lives a lot easier if they would heed my advice." Of course, I always forget that when I was 20-something I would think to myself, "Why is this old dude going on and on about when he was young? Can't he see that he's making a fool of himself? I really would like to get away from him and go do something impulsive and dangerous."
• You have hairs pop up in the weirdest places. One look at Abe Vigoda and you know that this will happen. He is an extreme example of hair foliage gone unchecked. But I really had no idea that it would happen so quickly. I have ear hairs so long that they could be used to hem my pant leg. Perhaps, it is directly tied to male pattern baldness and every time you lose a hair on your head you gain one in your nose, ear, bicep, ass cheek or ankle. Seriously, there are some spots that you had no idea were capable of growing hair that these wiry and coarse suckers pop up.
• People around you get old. Okay, so maybe this one seems obvious and I'll agree with you. But it still shocks me how old some people are when I hear their ages. Here are some examples- Uma Thurman- 39, Brent Spiner (aka Data from Star Trek)-60, Michael Jackson- 50, Madonna-50, Frank Oz-64 , Henry Winkler-63 , I remember when Christina Ricci was a child actor, now she's 29!!
• You need less sleep at night but nap more during the day. I can only guess that this trend continues to get worse as you always see octogenarians walking in the mall at 7am, 2 hours before they open, but are always the first to doze off at parties. I never used to nap at all but lately on the weekends I find myself dozing off for 30 minutes or so in the middle of the day. In fact, I feel like I could use a nap now. Maybe, it's because you don't sleep as soundly at night. Always getting up to pee since your prostrate is bigger.

I'm sure there are more things I'm missing right now, but that's because my brain is shrinking and I don't recall what they are, plus, I have to leave and go pee since I have an enlarged prostrate. Aging sucks, I guess maybe people did warn me what was going to happen but I didn't listen being the young brash whipper snapper that I was. I hope you young people will take my advice and know what's coming for you.

Back cleavage

Nothing makes you feel more young than attending a large party where you are in the top ten of youngest people there. That was the case last night as I went with my wife to her work's Christmas party. Lynn works in a hospital as a lab tech/medical technologist and at age 32 she greatly lowers the average age among her co-workers which is much closer to 55 than 30. There were lots of short haircuts on the women, dresses that would have looked fashionable 20 years ago, and salt and pepper coifs of hair and beards on the men.

The beginning of the party was somewhat adventurous as the lights were out for almost an hour, probably the result of the day's ice storms on the electrical wiring around town. Fortunately the open bar kept going and the bartender managed to dispense drinks and spirits by candlelight. I suggested that since the DJ's couldn't play their music that we murder someone and the rest of us could spend night figuring out who did it. My suggestions were met with an curious scowl as if they thought I could be serious. Instead we ended up singing a rather uninspired version of The Twelve Days of Christmas where each table took their turn singing one part of the song. Our table had "six geese-a-laying" so I got our table to stand up and stick their butts out and squat to pantomime the laying part.

Just as the song was finishing the lights came back on. While were saved from experiencing more sing-alongs I did end up seeing something that will forever be burned as a permanent image in my brain. The woman directly behind us at the next table appeared to be in her 50's and was wearing a low cut in the back dress. When I looked at her I actually did a double take as I originally thought she facing us and had her hair in her face. But she was sitting facing away from us and the reason I originally thought she was looking at us was the fact that her loose skin formed a fold straight down the middle of her shoulder blades. It looked just like your typical cleavage of a woman wearing a low neckline. Perhaps a bit flat chested, but it was clear cleavage all the same.

I furtively pointed out the back cleavage to my wife and her friend as they both laughed heartily. I referred to her as "back cleavage woman" the rest of the night as I would bring it up repeatedly as I often try squeeze out every last laugh possible on any subject. I didn't find out later until we were leaving that "back cleavage woman" was actually Lynn's boss. Had I known that, I might've squeezed some more jokes out of the situation.

Almost as horrifying, the sight of 12 post-menopausal women on the dance floor doing the twist was quite disconcerting. Even worse was when the DJ actually started to play some hip-hop at the bequest of an Iranian-American co-worker who looked like he liked to go clubbing. Watching 50-some year old women start grinding their hips and thrusting their butts back and forth was about as unappetizing as an Old Country Buffet when you have a stomach virus. I don't know if it really irked me because I know one day I might find that sexy or worse, NOT find it sexy and be doomed as a 60 year old man with mid-fifties wife.

Despite my cruel observations, it appeared they were all having a good time. Perhaps as you age your brain loses the ability to feel shame or embarrassment. It would, after all, explain alot about my father's behaviors lately.

Double digits

Cue the dramatic music-

My oldest son, Jonathan, is 10 today.

He, of course, is happy as a clam and I am happy for him.

But...

I am experiencing a bit of the double digit blues. I am seeing way too many double digit figures for my tastes lately. This year It's been..

25th year since a Philadelphia sports championship (of importance- fuck the Soul)
20th year out of high school
15th year since the Phillies made the World Series
14th year since my business was started
13th year since my mother passed away
10th year of marriage
and now I have a 10 year old son (insert withdraw method joke here)

In hindsight, 10 years ago was the beginnings of me getting my shit together. Having a baby to care for will do that to you. It wasn't an overnight transformation, mind you, but I did start learning quick. I do still have to pretend to know what I'm doing half the time but at least I step up to the plate and get things done now. Quite a change from when it was 2 weeks before Jonathan's due date and I had quit my crappy car sales job in Downingtown.

I was miserable, I hated my boss, the commute was terrible and getting another car sales job is a snap but it was probably the most selfish thing I have ever done. About 2 weeks after Jonathan was born I got off my ass and sold cars in Newtown. Two years previously I eventually swallowed my pride and started to talk to my father again. The business that we started together and my brother was running was starting to really take off, so less than 2 years after Jonathan was born I was able to to come back to the business, buy a house, and starting planning to have another child.

Funny how children change you. I am almost an upstanding and productive member of society.

So, Happy Birthday Jonathan- thanks for making me who I am today. I am so proud of you.

Thought of the day

The cast of thirtysomething are all in their 50's.




sigh

I'm gonna party like it's 1994

I know I blog too much about feeling old when I haven't even reached my 40's yet. But I've experienced the strange phenomena of thinking I'm in 1994 way too often lately. I'm not specifically thinking I'm 24 but whenever someone mentions to me that such and such happened in 1992 I think to myself that it was a recent occurrence when in fact it was SIXTEEN YEARS ago.

Hell, even things that have happened in the early 2000's are over 5-7 years ago. That's a lifetime for my youngest son Gabriel. I guess the 80's have a strong enough nostalgia following that I don't view much of what happened in the 80's as something recent. Ronald Reagan, Michael Jackson who was black and wore one gem studded glove, the space shuttle blowing up and Max Headroom are all things that seem like ancient history to me. But Kurt Cobain's death, the grunge look, Bill Clinton getting a BJ, and 911 are all things that feel like they've happened in the past year.

I guess it's a 20-25 year trend for actual nostalgia to set in. Happy Days and American Graffiti came out in the 70's when nostalgia for the 50's was at it's peak. I certainly recall a feel good movement over the hippies and Woodstock in the late 80's as well.

What's even stranger is that while I feel like things in the 90's aren't all that long ago the reverse seems to be true for gadgets and inventions. Technology is progressing so fast that it makes you feel like things are outdated before they even turn 3 years old. I looked at my cell phone from 2002 and it looks like a bulky and clumsy punch card fed computer. You ever look at pictures of iPods when they first came out? While they aren't exactly dowdy the look and feel is entirely different just a few years later. Heck, it wasn't a long time when you owned a Pentium I and felt out of sorts because the Pentium 2's just came out.

So, technology goes faster than actual history and nostalgia does. The back and forth is causing me great stress lately as I am afraid that next year the iPhone will be obsolete and I'll try to go see The Mask at the theater. Chalk it up to cognitive dissonance or just my crazy brain but I can't seem to have a grasp on what year it is. Please, someone tell me this isn't 2008 and I've been dreaming.

Mixing it up

Last night I had the extreme pleasure of seeing my old friend Andy aka Mister Odney for the 1st time in 15 years. We went to the Police concert at the Wachovia center and had a super fun time. I had a moment of feeling old upon seeing Sting's gray beard and Andy Summer's old man hands with bulging blue veins and translucent skin covered with age spots up close on the huge video screen playing his guitar. They played alot of good b-side sings that I haven't heard in ages and truly enjoyed. Sting's voice had lost an octave but he was still Sting. Stuart Copeland, the drummer, was, as always, abso-fan-fucking-tastic-lutely amazing. In alot of ways I'm glad they haven't recreated any more new music for the studio as it was good to hear all of the old classic Police.

I had a few surreal and funny moments last night as my mind seemed to combine things that shouldn't be combined. For starters before the show began, the lighted advertisements kept repeating the upcoming acts, among them was the Wiggles and Nine Inch Nails. I pointed that out to Andy and he asked if they were touring together. Of course, I started to imagine a concert where the 2 groups played songs together like, Get Ready to Fuck You Like an Animal. At that point I had to get a beer and I wandered out onto the concourse.

The first concession stand I came across was a Carvell. Not in the mood for ice cream, I was about to walk by until I noticed that they were selling cans of beer and no ice cream at all. I got in line and was met by a blank stare from the clerk when I asked for a Heineken and a Cookiepuss. Some people just can't seem to find humor in their jobs, I suppose.

Eventually, after the show started they played one of my favorite Police songs, I Can't Stand Losing You. The song was completely ruined for me because for some reason after they had close up of Sting's smiling face all I could think of was his bit role in the movie Dune. In particular the scene where he emotes the line repeatedly, "I will kill him!". If you've seen the movie you know what I'm talking about. The acting was terrible and for the life of me I could not get that image of my head. I started to uncontrollably giggle through the whole song.

Some things aren't meant to be combined, fortunately a good time with an old friend wasn't one of those instances.

Who's Ed McMahon?!!

Just this past Saturday night I played in my regular home game and poker tournament. (report coming up tonight or tomorrow) At the final table I am sandwiched in between two guys in their early 20's, Tim and Chris. I was fairly manic-y that night as I usually am during poker events. The previous night I was up until 3am with insomnia due to racy thoughts. So fueled solely on a manic high I was more Brian-ish than usual. (Wow, two made up words in one paragraph!!) I was singing at times. I was making inappropriate jokes (like joking about Tom sucking on his Mother's tit with her right next to him). I was also doing silly impersonations. In other words, I was my usual obnoxious self.

Certain phrases and words said by others were triggering my brain to sing songs that those words or phrases reminded me of. So, when someone announced that he had a pair of sixes by saying, "I got sixes", the Schoolhouse Rock song, I Got Six popped into my head and I started to sing it. Tim curiously started to look at me as I was singing the song, "I got six, that's all there is. Six times one is six- one times six." "Is that a made up song?", he queried.

I fully expect someone of Tim's age and generation to not know the Schoolhouse Rock catalog of songs. Especially as I Got Six is one of the more obscure and less popular ones. The Schoolhouse Rock animated shorts were beloved by my generation as they played in between the usual mix of Saturday morning cartoons. Most of my core knowledge of the multiplication tables, American History and the preamble to the constitution, basic science and human physiology and grammar was due to me being a typical kid couch potato every Saturday morning. I weep for Tim's generation as they did not have Schoolhouse Rock's catchy tunes beaten into their young impressionable brains. He did a have a glimmer of recognition when I told him it was the same guys who made I'm Just a Bill and Conjunction Junction.

I felt a touch old as I thought about that but then I felt even older a few minutes after that. After a interesting card came out on the turn on one hand I screamed, "Hey-o!!" in my best Ed McMahon impersonation. (well, it really was an impersonation of the late, great Phil Hartman impersonating Ed, but you get my point.) I followed up my initial Ed catch-phrase with a "You are correct sir!" and an Ed laugh. Chris then asks me, "Who are you impersonating?" I didn't know if I should be insulted as I thought Chris didn't recognize the impersonation because I was doing it poorly. I sheepishly replied, "Ed McMahon" Then the shock and awe bombing began with the next question from Chris-

"Who's Ed McMahon?"

"Are you serious?!" I incredulously replied somewhat out of line.

After some explaining that Ed was Johnny Carson's sidekick on the Tonight Show and he's the guy who delivers the big Clearinghouse sweepstakes check, he did know who Ed McMahon was. He then made the comparison to him being an Andy Richter and since he was close enough, I let the subject drop. A person who was a pop culture icon to my generation and to the 2 or 3 generations before me was becoming a footnote.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think Chris is dumb or anything like that for not knowing who Ed McMahon is. Quite the contrary as Chris appears to me to be a very intelligent, mature and funny young man. (good poker player too) Looking up the tonight Show on wiki, I see that Ed and Johnny said their goodbyes in 1992. While 1992 doesn't seem all that long ago to me, it's 16 years!! Chris was around 7 years old when Ed for the most part left the TV scene. Unless Chris' parents were completely neglectful or had weird ideas about when to put children to bed and what to let him watch on TV, It's understandable that he wouldn't instantly recognize the impression or name as I do. It's just like when I got a dirty look for not knowing who Ernie Kovacs was when I was in college. (I do now, having seen alot of his stuff, he was brilliant and groundbreaking)

So there you have it- what was once a star is now a memory. I am a bigger old fart than I previously thought (yet again, it seems to be getting worse...) and my only solace is knowing that someday Chris might finding himself saying, " 'Who's Andy Richter?!!' How could you not know who Andy Richter is?!!"

The birthday blues

April 24th is my birthday- brace yourselves for a "woe is me" kind of entry!!

I think since I've turned 30 I've looked less and less forward to birthdays to the point where I start to dread them. Tomorrow I turn 38. While it's no milestone birthday, it still sounds incredibly old to me. Besides, with my 10th wedding anniversary and 20th high school reunion approaching this year, I don't think I could stomach another milestone like turning 40. (like my brother did 2 months ago)

While I realize tomorrow I'm just another day older, the event itself is like a hard poke to your side ribs and a lingering painful reminder of my mortality. Despite the best efforts of my wife and kids to make me happy, I'm sure I''ll end up being a dour piece of ungrateful shit during the whole festive event. This, of course, will lead to Lynn getting upset that she can't make me happy and she'll get all pissy as well. At least misery loves company?

If I get this crummy when I turn 38 just imagine how hard "mid-life" crisis is going to hit me when I get to be in my 50's. (altho-technically if I live to 76 like I'm supposed to then I'm in "mid-life" right now.) I sure hope I'll have enough money to blow on hookers and exotic sports cars or else I may just have to become a serial killer that goes around killing people in their 20's because I'm jealous of their youthfulness and vitality.

Also- please spare me your "38 is the new 28" and "you're only as old as you feel" comments. I will hunt you down by your IP address and get an early start on my new psychotic career.

Happy fucking birthday to me.