There are only a few things that have the power to hold the interest of a fifteen-year-old boy. Boobs…food…sleep…and Boobs. If a fifteen-year-old boy fell off the Empire State building, on the way down, he’d be looking at the women’s boobs through the windows…all the while wishing he had a burger and some fries.
Category: flash
The Past
I’m not quite sure why I’m so obsessed with the past. After all, If I remember correctly, I wasn’t that fond of it at the time.
Hey Dumb Ass
Damn…
All of a sudden I’m old. I swear that when I went to bed last night I was young. I could run and jump, play ball with the kids, eat ice cream, drink beer, stay out all night and still make it to work the next morning with a smile on my face. But when I woke up this morning, it was a struggle to find my glasses before I could see good enough to even find my way to the bathroom to retrieve my teeth from the glass on the sink.
My mind tells me that I can still do all those things that I always just took for granted. But, I guess all my sweet moves on the field of play might have soured a bit. I probably should have known something was going on when they started asking me be the scorekeeper instead of a player. But, in my stubborn refusal to age, I did not pay attention ‘to everyone who ever knew me’ and attempted to join in on their reindeer games anyway. It only took a few minutes before my body parts looked at me in shame and decided to rebel.
Hey stupid ass…you want to quit that now. Cease and desist immediately or we’ll make you pay. And no amount of ibuprofen is going to fix it either.
But I did learn a valuable lesson. Whoever it was that said ‘No pain, no gain’ was younger than 30.
Progress
Progress is never what it seems. It hides behind the mask of deceit. Progress always means change…change means money… but it’s always money for someone who has never had to live with the changes that progress has left them. Anytime you hear that they’re going to do a thing in the name of progress, you can bet that it’s just another way of saying, let’s take what’s beautiful, or intricately crafted, and turn it into something sleek, streamlined, cold…and ugly. Without warning progress will rip the heart from of a place and steal its innocents. It will pull the beauty from everything it touches and leave in its wake a crippled used up shell of what it once was.
Young vs. Old
My son, over at mabrotherton.com seems to be obsessed with categorizing, stereotyping, and discriminating people based on which generation they fall into. GenX, GenY, Baby boomers, Me generation, millineals…Well I’ve got the answer for you son. You’re Young and I’m Old. That pretty much sums it up for me.
Let’s face it, if you can wake up in the morning and go pee without the 15 minute ritual of stretching, popping and cracking of every joint…you’re young. If you have to get into the shower and run hot water on your back before you can bend over enough to put on your underwear…you’re old.
If you give a shit about social issues…young
People shouldn’t be allowed on the streets after 6PM…old
If women in bikinis gets you excited…young
If women in bikinis makes you want to give them a lecture on skin cancer…old
Sex, as much as you can, anytime you can…young
Sex, what’s that?…old
If you think our current president is an ignorant, childish, sexist bully…well, I guess we have to agree on somethings.
Jerry Brotherton 