I’m bloody annoyed at the moment.
In fact I’m so annoyed right now that I’m not in fact typing this with my hands, but instead I’m headbutting each key and saying slanderous things about each of their mothers with each slam of my forehead (which means its taken me ages to write these last few sentences, and has given me an awful headache as well).
Why am I annoyed, you’re not asking?
Well, I’m off work today.
Why are you off work today, you’re also not asking?
Well, I’m off work because……oh this is so hard to say…….I’m off work because…… I’ve done my back in.
Quick, somebody throw a blanket round me and stick me in an old peoples home.
I don’t know what's wrong with it. I woke up on Sunday and it was tight. Come Monday it was on fire, and when I woke up this morning I couldn’t move. After doing some medical exploring with my fingers (mmmmmmmn, filthy) it seems as if I have a small lump at the base of my spine that hurts to touch.
Now this could mean either one of three things.
1) I have pulled something and its really swollen.
2) I have a real deep spot and its in the most awkward of places.
3) I’m starting to grow a tail.
Now naturally out of those three things, its the tail one I’m hoping for. How cool would that be? I could use it to fan myself if hot. If I’m ever giving directions I could use my tail to point the way instead of my finger. And it would be a brilliant aid to gauge what mood I’m in ( Swishing around: Angry. Hanging between my legs: Scared. Pointing up in the air while the end makes a “Come here” motion: Horny), the possibilities are endless. Tails are cool.
But nevertheless, my back is in tatters and its resulted in me hobbling round like a geriatric who has just soiled himself. This isn’t right. I’m 32. not 82. The fact that I have just rung in sick due to a bad back was something I was hoping to avoid for, say, oh I don’t know, another 15 years?
Is this it? Does this mean that I’ve reached the summit and the only way to go now is down? I mean, I’m half deaf as it is, and I’m borderline incontinent anyway, so what other delights are coming my way? Will I start to grow hair from my ears? Will II start to buy jeans with elasticated waistbands? Will I take up line dancing? I’m nothing more than the rotting carcass of the man I used to be.
Growing older never really used to bother me. OK, I’ll admit that the passing of another 12 months and a move up on my age bracket did sometimes play on my mind a little. But in my head I’m still the same idiotic bell end I’ve always been, but now as I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I find that its been transported into the body of a slightly stupid looking adult, one who constantly wears the bemused expression of someone who is desperately trying to remember where he has left his keys.
When did this happen? And more importantly, how can I stop it?
How will I feel when I start getting my first grey hairs? What if its in my pubic hair? My only option will be to shave them all off. So then I’ll be a man in his 30’s with the genitalia of a toddler. That can’t be right? (though I would imagine it to be very bracing). Can you dye your pubic hair? What if I try and dye it and it goes wrong and I end up with green pubic hair? I’ll look like I’ve gone mouldy. This is a pubic nightmare. I need to do more research.
Maybe worrying about your age happens at all stages of your life? When I was in my teens, thinking of being 25 seemed ancient to me. Now that I’m in my 30’s, the thought of hitting 40 is terrifying. Most likely when I’m in my 40’s, I’ll look back at my young and care free 30’s with a wry smile. I’m never happy, me.
The only plus point I can see about getting older is that I will now have an excuse for being rude and not caring what I say, where as now I have none.
I know they say that you should enjoy your life, no matter what your age is. But how can I enjoy it with a bad back, non-functioning ears, and the future onset of pubic Armageddon?