Smell This

All right, I've been told if I don't write something in this damnable blog space, my friend Kara won't speak to me anymore. Well, I've got a birthday coming up and if she's not speaking to me, it's quite likely I won't be receiving un cadeau. Screw that. So while we're on that topic of my birthday, let's just say this; I am old. Not compared to say, oh I don't know, an octogenarian, or a Joshua tree, but old in the sense that people under 30 can smell my fear when at a party with scads of bubbly twenty-somethings. Stupid twenty-somethings. Smell this you little punks. I was walking on this earth when Tricky Dick was in the White House. I watched the original airings of Three's Company and the Brady Bunch. I was here before cell phones. So before you go calling me a blue hair, realize that I may have some knowledge inbetween my wrinkled ears; knowledge that may be useful to you. When the nuclear bombs go off and civilization needs to be rebuilt, I'll be the one who knows how to use a rotary phone.