Five Signs That You’re Getting Old

I just hit a major milestone recently, turning 45 years old. To some of my friends, I’m still a “baby.” That’s fine, I accept the compliment with a chuckle and a smirk.

But to my daughter and her friends, I’m vintage. Like, I know all of the words to the television theme song “Flipper” and continue to retell the tale of the day when my mom shredded my cassette tape of “Girls, Girls, Girls” because she thought the lyrics were just absolutely filthy.

I find myself saying “back in my day” constantly and like clockwork, my 22 year old rolls her eyes.

“Back in my day…”

She’ll mimic me in a sad attempt to keep me from jumping into my time-machine, which happens to be a 1988 Dodge Omni.

It never works. You can’t stop the passage of time.

Here’s my list of the five signs that you’re getting old.

1. Excitement Over New Appliances

My boyfriend recently bought a new air fryer, so he gave me his old one. He could’ve easily sold it for at least $30, but he decided to change my life instead.

I love this thing. You can cook pretty much anything in this bad boy. Onion rings! Hot Dogs! French Fries! Even burgers!

They come out perfect, like a real fryer but without the oil and mess. Not to mention that it’s healthier because there’s absolutely no greasy residue! If you’re over 40, stop reading this and tell somebody about this modern day miracle.

I’ll wait right here, I need a moment to calm down anyway.

2. You Can Find Song Lyrics To Fit Any Situation

Daughter: Mom, I’m worried that I’ll never find a decent guy.

Me, in a sing-song voice:


“Que será, será
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours to see
Que será, será
What will be, will be”

Daughter: Is that the new song by Rihanna?

3. You’re Confused At How Much Things Cost Now

My daughter is on the way to the store to grab some snacks and asks me if I want anything. I reach for my purse and hand her $2.

Me: I want a Kit-Kat, a Coke Zero and a bag of chips, surprise me.

Daughter, looking down at the crumpled dollar bills: Um, mom? This isn’t enough money to buy all of that.

Me: What do you mean? A candy bar costs like 40 cents! Make sure you give me my change back, every penny counts.

4. You Obsess About The Smell Of Your House

I have two dogs and a young adult living in my home.

This combination causes a grand stink to emanate from my condo. Parts of my home are what I declare “odor neutral” like my…well, never mind. There are no parts of my home that don’t smell like shit.

What can I do?

I buy candles when they go on sale. I stock up. As many different scents as possible and I light those bitches up to mask the smell of dog and the dishes that my daughter left in the sink (not rinsed off.)


Scummy water, my favorite.

The sprays don’t last long enough in my opinion. On occasion, I’ll purchase some of those plug-in oils that cost a small fortune and stick them in my kitchen and bathroom outlets. Yet much to my annoyance I find that the oil has been working so hard to rid my home of funky smells that within days the glass container is almost bone dry and needs changed again.

It’s just this never-ending cycle of stench.

5. You Get Thrilled When You Find A Bargain

There’s a local craft store that is going out of business after many years of providing yarn and popsicle sticks to the masses. Since I now consider myself a jewelry designer, my boyfriend and I decided to stop in the other evening 45 minutes before closing time to see what remnants they had left.

The jewelry section had been clearly picked through, but there were still many cool things left. I saw this amazing sign in bold, black letters:

Buy 3, Get 18 for Free!

Holy fucking cow! I asked my boyfriend if my eyes were deceiving me. He assured me that I wasn’t seeing things, so then began my mad dash to find the best beads and shit in the fastest time possible.

My hands were soon overflowing and silly me, I didn’t grab a basket when we came in because how was I supposed to know that they’d actually have some really great stuff? My boyfriend quickly looked around and found a black hat, so I used it to carry my goodies in.

I was like a kid in a candy store!! I felt giddy and almost fainted with the sheer delight of it all.

I ended up buying around $60 dollars worth of jewelry supplies for $19.27. (After taxes.)

Even a couple of days later, I am still pinching myself. It’s the kind of thing that dreams are made of, you guys.

There ain’t nothing like getting shit for free!

Money does not grow on trees and chocolate milk doesn’t really come from brown cows.

But I think I’m going to just pretend that those things are true because it still makes me feel young at heart.

ES’s 6th Annual Contest of Whatever

Being the natural-born procrastinator that I am, here’s my almost too late submission for my longtime blog friend ES and his Evil Squirrels Six Annual Contest of Whatever.

This years theme is…”a squirrel walks into a bar…”


Meet Norbert.


Hello there, bitches.

Norbert was having one hell of a day. First, he got fired from his job as a professional dog agitator. Then, upon his arrival home, he was met at the front door by his wife, who had a suitcase in her claws.

“Norbert, I just found out on Facebook that you lost your job!! I’m going to mothers house!”

“What the actual fuck? I hate social media!”

To make matters worse, his cable and internet were down for repairs.

“Now what should I do?” asked Norbert, all alone and despondent.

Ah yes, the bar down the branch! Where nobody knew his name. He could order himself a cold Guinness and drown his sorrows, just like his papa did (who was a rolling stone his ma had always said) back in the day.

So, Norbert the squirrel walked into the bar, ironically named “The Nutty Pluck.”

He decided not to sit at the bar, but within close proximity to the booze. He wanted some privacy, just in case he lost his shit and started crying, cause’ everybody knows that big squirrels don’t cry.

He took a gigantic gulp of his beer and belched so loudly, it startled a pretty female squirrel a few feet away, who turned to look at him. They accidentally (for Norbert at least) made beady black eye contact and she smiled seductively.

Much to Norbert’s surprise and dismay, she started to climb towards him. Since he suffered from social anxiety, his fluffy tail began to sweat profusely.

“Hey there, would you like some company?” she asked Norbert, giving him a wink.

“Um, no thanks, you see…sigh…I am just a lowly squirrel living in a lonely world.”

Taken aback, as she wasn’t used to being rejected, she got angry at Norbert.


Stella the Squirrel. A sexy squirrel gone amok.

“Well then, screw you!”

She turned on her hind leg, quickly becoming swallowed up by the large crowd of revelers.

Once she was far enough away, Norbert let out a massive sigh of relief and dried off his tail.


After about 5 more beers, Norbert was highly intoxicated. He started to stagger towards the front door of “The Nutty Pluck” when he suddenly felt something heavy bop him on his little furry noggin.

“What do you think of him, Ricky?”

The female squirrels voice started to wake him from his stupor. She was pointing at Norbert, who lay on the ground underneath his tree.


Poor, hapless Norbert.

He was starting to think that he should have just took a fucking nap instead of going out to get sloshed, but it was too late now, cause’ this shit was happening.

A giant ass raccoon appeared right above Norbert.


Ricky the Raccoon, rotten, but with a tender side.

“He looks like a real winner, Stella.”

Norbert tried to sit up, but the raccoon held him down with his substantially larger body.

“You ain’t going anywhere, asshat.”

Stella laughed criminally and flipped Norbert the middle finger.

“I didn’t do anything to her!” Norbert stammered, trying to defend himself.

“Right, you didn’t. Hurt her feelings a little.” The raccoon chuckled and then pulled a switch blade knife out of seemingly nowhere. He put it right flush against his wee little neck.

Norbert’s whole life passed before his eyes.

It had been a decent life, he figured. He’d eaten his fair share of nuts and dodged many a car while crossing the road. He just sucked at keeping a job (fucking stupid dogs!) and if he was being honest with himself, his wife was a nasty meanie head.

“JUST DO IT ALREADY!!” he screamed somewhat incoherently at Ricky the Raccoon, finally losing his shit.

Stella and Ricky both looked at each other in amazement.

“Well, he’s no fun,” said Stella, seemingly disappointed.

“You’re right Stella, he’s making this way too fucking easy,” said Ricky, astonished. He looked down at Norbert and then moved so that he could help him up off the filthy ground.

“No hard feelings, chump. You’re the most boring victim Stella has ever found for us. You’re free to go.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Maybe we’ll have better luck in Acornville. This one seemed perfect, Ricky, I swear. Scared of his own shadow!”

Norbert was now standing and holding his pounding, lightly bleeding head.

“So wait…you guys are just letting me go?” Norbert asked, confused.

Ricky made a sweeping motion with his paw.

“Go now before I change my mind, you lucky bastard.”

Norbert didn’t look back, he just scurried the fuck outta there.


Once he got back to his empty nest, it really occurred to him that he had just escaped being murdered by two insane rodents. It made his job loss and losing his unpleasantly toxic wife seem less shitty by comparison.

On a whim, he started to pack up his few belongings. It was time for him to move on to higher trees.


Maybe north or south, he wasn’t sure. But he did know two things.

He’d never walk into a bar ever again.

And he wasn’t going anywhere near Acornville.

The End