I’ve posted about getting old already, but shut up. I don’t have a lot rattling around in the ol’ brain box and, you know, I’m getting old.
It all happened last week when the boy I nanny asked me what “this thing” was.
When I told him it was an iPod, he looked at me like I had lobsters crawling out of my ears. And then he called it stupid, or some similar childish insult, because you can’t play games on it. I don’t know what he’s talking about, “can’t play games on it”, ’cause I play a mean Brick Buster on this thing on the daily. And I’m assuming that “on the daily” means whenever I’m bored because I don’t know what you kids mean with your hip phrases and backwards hats. It’s confusing.
Anyway, after dying a little inside, I realized I just had my first real “getting old” moment. God forbid I showed this kid an 8-track or a Laserdisc; he’d probably crap his jim jams. To be fair, if I saw a Laserdisc, I’d probably crap in my jim jams too; those things were retarded.
Laserdiscs were good for those dramatic breakup scenes. Now if I want to ruin his music/movie collection because
I’m crazy he’s wrong, I only get to break one or two tiny things. Stupid technology.