A Birthday And Stuff

Another birthday rolled around. I realized that when you sign up for things and you have to actually scroll to get to your birth year, you're getting old. I work with people that were born in the nineties. I'm four years older than one of my bosses. I got a pimple yesterday, so apparently, my body is just as confused about my age as I am.

You know what else makes me feel old? Twitter. I signed up for it, because everyone signs up for it nowadays. Everyone is flocking there, and somehow I got pushed to the Twitter page. It feels like being in a pack of rabid grandmothers waiting outside for the doors to open to get the sales the day after Thanksgiving. Only difference is that I have no idea what it's for. I have a twitter page. I think I might even have some tweets... or twits... or whatever they're called. I don't get it. Why? If it's important enough for me to say it, then why not write out a well-thought blog entry? What is the purpose of this thing? I think I have lived in Quincy too long and now the retirement people are making me one of them. I see them at the laptop displays wondering how such a thing could work. OH, I GET LAPTOPS! I understand those things! I just don't get twitter. Or facebook. Why? I just don't get it.

I finally figured out how to get my son in on a game of Resident Evil, so we can both play at the same time. I spend the first half of the game making him walk, not run, (don't run, you might fall and break your ear off!) behind me so that I could protect him from zombies. (I think at one point, I actually told him to go hide. As if the game really featured that.) Finally, he got bored, so he ignored me and ran ahead. My Chris told me to stop mothering him, it's just a game. But you should see those two play the combat fighter pilot game. My Chris goes a little bit nuts. He's not used to playing video games, I'm slowly getting him in on it. (Mostly now that we have remote controls, he likes playing in his recliner. Hehehe.) Still, Kade is pretty good at that game. Maybe even better than me... well no, not better than me, but he's pretty good. Certainly better than the computer that was controlling the second character. When my son can play better than me, then I'll know I'm really old.

This happened yesterday:

Me - "blah blah blah something about my Chris blah blah..."
Customer - "Certainly you are not old enough to have a husband!?"
Me - "Uh... how old do you think I am?"
Customer - "22."
Me - "You're my new favorite customer."

I may be getting older, but I think I have decided to age very slowly. I shall keep my youthful vigor and good looks... right after take this here nap.