Excuse Me

But, what the fuck is THIS?

Understanding Sen~or Citizens

For the last three or four days, every time I bend over, I get this loving, gentle flow of excruciating pain that radiates from my hip to my toes. Good morning sciatic nerve. Did I offend you last night? I must've sat on you.
I think it is time to pull out the ole check list.

Recurring Ailments. Check

Grouchy All of the Time at Younger People. Check.

Enjoyment of All Things Crochet. Check.

Constant Anger at "Reckless Drivers". Check.

I think it is official.

I AM GETTING OLD.

I was watching senior citizens the other day and decided that maybe there is something to look forward to in my golden years. They seem to be happy, with their dinners at 4 p.m., power walking through the mini malls, and driving vehicles that resemble cop cars. Maybe there is some secret disco, like in the movie Cocoon, where everyone dances salsa and power slams umbrella drinks? Maybe that is a Tuesday night event....I mean, why wait till the weekend when every day is Partae Time!

I think the scariest thing to face is the whole physical aspect of aging. Really, who wants to be a young person trapped in an old person's body? I'm sure that a lot of them feel that way...

Case in point, my dad.
Now, he is not old as balls yet...but he's getting there. I always envision my dad as the young, handsome, long-haired hippie that everyone loves. He still acts like that young, handsome hippie that everyone loves, with one exception: he is starting to shrink. Either that or I am getting taller and guess what? I AM NOT TURNING INTO CINDY CRAWFORD.
You do the math.
Here is my dad with my mom on their wedding day:

In case you hurt your head recently, I am referring to the person on the right.

Studdly, right?

Even though he no longer sports the chops or weighs 120, he still has a strong pimp hand. One of my girlfriends insists that he is a stone fox. Ewww.

Yes, he is 61 and goes to sleep at 8:30, but the man can still make a mean Beefeater Gin and Tonic. He also loves seeing live bands at the 9:30 Club, traveling to other countries on a whim, laughing at just about anything remotely funny, screaming at sporting events, dancing at every family party and finally, farting on command. That makes him kind of like a sensei.

So, if getting old is going to be more like my dad, Sen~or's example, I'm on board with it.

So here's to you, Dad, and some other senior idols of mine:

I think I just roundhouse kicked through a wall just then. Golden Girls. So legitimate.

Oh and please don't say anything bad about the Golden Girls. I don't want you to end up burning in the hell fire of eternal damnation. It can happen. Think about it.

Shake a shake rattle dem old bones

The Gift of Music

Like him or hate him, there is an earnest quality to his voice that I find lovely...

New, Improved, LIVE: Yoni Wolf (of WHY?) - "Against Me" from The Bay Bridged on Vimeo.

Time's A Wastin'

Drastic Measures, people. Drastic Measures are what makes life tremendous and great.

An excerpt from a book that has stayed with me through the years:

"The broken are not always gathered together, of course, and not all mysteries of the flesh are solved. We speak of "senseless tragedies," but really: Is there any other kind? Mothers and wives disappear without a trace. Children are killed. Madmen ravage the world, leaving wounds immeasurably deep, and endlessly mourned. Loved ones whose presence once filled us move into the distance; our eyes follow them as long as possible as they recede from view. Maybe we chase them-clumsily, across railroad tracks and trafficked streets; over roads new-printed with their footsteps, the dust still whirling in the wake of them; through impossibly big cities peopled with strangers whose faces and bodies carry fragments of their faces and bodies, whose laughter, steadiness, pluck, stubborness reminds us of the beloved we seek. Maybe we stay put, left behind, and look for them in our dreams. But we never stop looking, not even after those we love become part of the unreachable horizon. We can never stop carrying the heavy weight of love on this pilgrimage; we can only transfigure what we carry. We can only shatter it and send it whirling into the world so that it can take shape in some new way."

My message to you, on this eve, Oatmeal Rubbers: clean your house, inside and out.
Do yoga.
Be ok with getting angry.
Tell the truth, even if the person you are telling leaves your reachable horizon.
Do things that take courage...and fear not what tomorrow brings, because it might never come.

My love to Alex, who I can't breathe without.
My love to Mimi, who stumbled after me, clumsily, to my destination. At least she is here to save my life every now and then.

My love to my wonderful sister and brother, Emily and Carlos. Please stumble closer...

Unit

Cat Video of the Week

Why are cat videos so much better than...cats?

Think about it.

Calling All Dolphins

Note to self:

Avoid people that talk like they are speaking to dolphins. Usually, they aren't saying what they really mean if they have to raise their voices to ridiculous octaves. I think they might even try to deceive the dolphin...so stay away from tuna fish while you are at it.

I feel so....so....
OLD SKOOL FLO