You tell me

How old do I look?

Because, okay, I do have a Birthday of Significance coming up, in just barely over a month. I’m not entirely ready for it, to be honest. It has a good chance to be a pretty rough day. But do you know what shit happened to me today? I went to the grocery after work today, with my wife, because of course there had to be a witness along for this bullshit, to buy Many Snacks for the final meeting of my weird little gay kids club tomorrow.

I had too many snacks, so rather than going through the self-checkout I went through a regular register, with a checker and a bagger and shit. The human being manning the register … well, childing the register, was a larva. Maybe seven years old, at most. And do you know what this prepubescent little bastard(*) did to me?

Without saying anything or asking a single question, he gave me a senior citizen discount.

Which I took. Because fuck you, groceries are expensive, and 10% off is a good discount.

But seriously. Tell the truth, especially if you don’t actually know how old I am. I know The Youngs don’t have the slightest idea how old anyone over 30 actually is, but I can go back to this grocery store tomorrow and smack this little asshole, right? Because last I checked senior citizen means sixty-five, and … no. I don’t even plan on living to 65 and I sure as shit on my worst day on Earth don’t look 65 now.

I’mma kidnap this little diaper-wearing-ass smooth-skinned-ass no-retirement-plan-havin’-ass have-fun-with-global-warming-after-I’m-dead-ass whippersnapper and dropkick him onto my front lawn so I can tell him to get the fuck off of it.

(*) By seven, I mean seventeen, because if this little shit can fuck up my age I can sure as hell fuck his up.

I know, man. I know.

In lieu of a post tonight, please to enjoy this brief email conversation between a student and I that actually happened this afternoon.

I love 8th graders.

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Because shit is too serious right now:  you may or may not be aware that my wife’s mother passed away a couple of weeks ago after a long illness.  I alluded to it here a couple of times but I don’t think I ever actually came out and said it.  Do not bother expressing your well-wishes in the comments as I am about to spend this post making fun of my deceased mother-in-law and your sentiments will feel inappropriate.

My wife spent part of her day today helping her dad clean the house out, and in the process of throwing out a bunch of newspapers and magazines somehow came across this.  I am seriously considering getting in touch with the President’s office over at Purdue on the off chance that the letter this is responding to is still in an archive somewhere, because oh my God how batshit crazy must the letter this is responding to be:

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Kudos to President Beering, seriously; this is shade of the highest order and I am very impressed.

(NOTE: This was published, obviously, with my wife’s full knowledge and permission.)

The third paragraph is the important one.

diphenhydramine-hydrochlorideSo, spent the day staring at spreadsheets and a huge pile of disorganized incredibly poorly-photocopied documents attempting to make everything on the spreadsheet agree with everything in the documents.  It didn’t, but it’s about 60 grand closer than it was this morning.  Also, my eyes are bleeding.

Then met a couple of friends for dinner at a place I’ve only eaten at once.  My mouth has felt funny and my lips have felt swollen since dinner.

Took a Benadryl.

Benadryl is the me-slayer.  I could lick a Benadryl and the shit would knock me unconscious.

So, uh, yeah.  Bedtime’s coming cray early tonight.

Cray.