OK, so I’ve never been tremendously bothered by my age. I’m 41. Aside from the fact that my joints ache and my knees sound like crunching celery when I walk up stairs, the Nugget chassis is hangin in there pretty well. So I’ve never really thought of myself as being middle-aged. But recently I’ve been assaulted with little tidbits of reality that shock the system and remind me that I’m not 31 (which is a more accurate representation of how old I feel).
The first one was an episode of SNL where the Beastie Boys performed (this was several months ago), and I was surprised to see that they were no longer frozen in time at the age of 24, but they were sporting a little salt-n-peppa:
Very dapper, wouldn’t you say? I’m not complaining, but it was startling.
So I’m listening to the radio last week, and the local dude is interviewing Henry Rollins (former front man for Black Flag). HR casually mentions he’s 47! Wait, how did this happen? OK, I know I’m 41, but how is HR 47!!!
Out of curiosity, I looked up Siouxsie Sioux on Google images, and she looks fabulous, at least in this pic:
I don’t know if she’s had any work done, but she’s 51. Did you catch that? SIOUXSIE SIOUX IS 51 YEARS OLD!!! God, how old does that make Robert Smith (the Cure)? Let me look it up in another tab: oh my Lord, he’s 49:
Ok, he seriously needs to get a new look. Even I gave up wearing all black, and I never looked back.
I had a point here, and it’s not “oh woe is me, I’m old.” It’s more like, “wow, time sure flies, better get to those things I always meant to do but never made time for.” I’m not talking bucket list here, I’m just saying better get busy. Time’s a wastin!