I am getting old it seems. 30 is finally kicking in. I am turning into the grumpy old man that the younger generation hates. I have feared this day for sometime now. I can either embrace it, or fight it. I am not sure what to do. The past few weeks has brought me face to face with the “you kids get off my lawn ” syndrome as I like to call it. It all started with Indiana Jones. I noticed two words of bad language that have never been used in any of the previous Indiana movies. Why Spielberg? Ohh why? Did you feel the need to put them in the new one? It actually ruined the movie for me. Completely unnecessary. Now when Desmond is old enough to watch these movies with me and enjoy them, I have to make an effort to bleep it out….twice. We may just stick with the original, it was the best one anyway. So take that!

Moment number two was tonight at Sonic. I was trying to place my order into the speaker box from hell. The poor little girl on the other end was trying I know that, but when ”BoomShalaka” pulls up in the spot next to us in his low riding, 17 inch chrome rimming 92 Honda Accord, with a speaker system that can be heard and felt by the Mars Lander (who has a twitter account btw) and the ground shaking below me. She can’t hear me. After repeating my order 6 times to get a 99cent peanut butter milk shake, I explode. I scream at BoomShalaka to turn his bloody radio down, he pretends to not hear me, and drives off. Then to make matters worse, the girl keeps calling me “Mam”. This has been a thorn in my side for most of my life, I am always mistaken for a Mam on the phone, I don’t know why, I guess I talk softly. I firmly and deeply in the manliest voice I can, I  speak into the speaker system, and say, “its Siiiiiiiirrrrrrr”. She doesn’t care, now shes mad at me. I can totally tell from her 15 year old tude, whatev’s! At this point I am just beat down, I politely as I can beg “please lady I just want my freakin milkshake, before I have a stroke”. Desmond slept through the whole thing. Jackie laughed and reminded me of my blood pressure. At that point I relized I just needed to let it go, and suck on my peanutbuttery goodness.

Some people say 30 is the new 21. I am beginning to think 30 is the new 60. However I will fight to remain young, and pray for patience. I can laugh at myself, I promise. Look at this blog for crying out loud. Desmond’s picture today is a representation of how I feel. Sometimes I want to just pull my hair out. He however makes it look so cute, thats something I am not sure I can pull off nearly as well.