Thursday Thirteen--signs of a mild midlife crisis
I went over to the thirteen site to see if I could pick up the code like Shannon "who used to visit and say hi" Stacy and others have. I really like that automatic Put Your Name Here thing. I couldn't find the little box thing quickly and decided I've had enough of struggling with code for a while. Almost all the words I've written this week have had brackets around them.
1. You try on something in a color you're supposed to avoid. Back in the 80s someone told you you were an autumn and should never wear orange. You buy at least five orange things.
2. You stop cursing the convertibles that go too fast down your street and start looking at their make.
3. You say random things at supper time. The point is to see if anyone notices you're not making sense. They don't.
4. You continue to say random things before and after supper. Still no one notices, so you slip in a few outrageous things. Nope. Heh. This is fun. It becomes a hobby. You try it out in public.
5. A house you've liked okay for ten years suddenly looks shabby and unpleasant. You consider knocking out a wall to bring in more light. No, don't bother with builders, I'll just do the sledge hammer work on my own.
6. You find yourself backing out of messy rooms and closing the door more often. Screw it. Let them live in a sty. You don't have time for the lectures or the cleaning or the fretting.
7. Some of those rooms include bedrooms, dining rooms, family rooms, bathrooms and kitchens.
In other words, the whole house.
8. You consider chopping off three feet of hair with nail clippers. Hey the choppy look might be kind of cool again. Where's uncle andrew when we need him?
9. You buy beauty products that you used to mock. Lip liner. Foundation. You pay full price for them, too. (but it's at Walgreens so we're not talking a scary bill. We're talking MILD midlife crisis)
10. You consider a two piece bathing suit even though you didn't even wear them when you were a teenager.
11. They're tankinis. Remember? Mild.
12. You have lots and lots of lurid dreams about men you haven't seen in years or men you've never met. The dreams usually end with you taking a train back to a home you haven't lived in for decades. No, I don't know what it means, it's just a sign, okay? Hormones? Chocolate right before bed? For the purposes of this list we'll go with hormones. And we'll point out that waking up from those dreams isn't much fun.
13. You reassure your teenaged kid that the ups and downs he's feeling are perfectly normal and, as you talk, you realize you're reassuring yourself. Good thing too because as per number 3 and 4, he's not listening anyway.
1. You try on something in a color you're supposed to avoid. Back in the 80s someone told you you were an autumn and should never wear orange. You buy at least five orange things.
2. You stop cursing the convertibles that go too fast down your street and start looking at their make.
3. You say random things at supper time. The point is to see if anyone notices you're not making sense. They don't.
4. You continue to say random things before and after supper. Still no one notices, so you slip in a few outrageous things. Nope. Heh. This is fun. It becomes a hobby. You try it out in public.
5. A house you've liked okay for ten years suddenly looks shabby and unpleasant. You consider knocking out a wall to bring in more light. No, don't bother with builders, I'll just do the sledge hammer work on my own.
6. You find yourself backing out of messy rooms and closing the door more often. Screw it. Let them live in a sty. You don't have time for the lectures or the cleaning or the fretting.
7. Some of those rooms include bedrooms, dining rooms, family rooms, bathrooms and kitchens.
In other words, the whole house.
8. You consider chopping off three feet of hair with nail clippers. Hey the choppy look might be kind of cool again. Where's uncle andrew when we need him?
9. You buy beauty products that you used to mock. Lip liner. Foundation. You pay full price for them, too. (but it's at Walgreens so we're not talking a scary bill. We're talking MILD midlife crisis)
10. You consider a two piece bathing suit even though you didn't even wear them when you were a teenager.
11. They're tankinis. Remember? Mild.
12. You have lots and lots of lurid dreams about men you haven't seen in years or men you've never met. The dreams usually end with you taking a train back to a home you haven't lived in for decades. No, I don't know what it means, it's just a sign, okay? Hormones? Chocolate right before bed? For the purposes of this list we'll go with hormones. And we'll point out that waking up from those dreams isn't much fun.
13. You reassure your teenaged kid that the ups and downs he's feeling are perfectly normal and, as you talk, you realize you're reassuring yourself. Good thing too because as per number 3 and 4, he's not listening anyway.
Funny! Did you think all that up on your own?
ReplyDeleteI'm supposed to start doing this Thursday Thirteen thing, but I just don't feel that clever. Can't imagine tapping my brain every single week looking for wittiness that just isn't there!
Is ten out of thirteen a good score? Do I get extra points if I've already done the hair chop thing? And does is count if the house always looked shabby?
ReplyDeleteBonnie, I didn't think them up, I lived them. Many of them anyway. I still don't have a tankini or lip liner. But I've LOOKEd at those things.
ReplyDeleteUADrew, it's not that the house is shabby. It's that I stopped giving a damn. I used to apologize the place looked so bad when people stopped by.
Now I'll warn them not to step on the homework all over the ground but that's about it. Except the bathrooms. Oh, sweet god, disgusting bathrooms still bug me. Ugh.
And now I'm trying to figure out which three you didn't do. clothes? makeup? lurid men dreams? or am I being sexist again?
ReplyDeleteHey, I visit all the time.
ReplyDelete8. You consider chopping off three feet of hair with nail clippers.
Okay, so yesterday I took the boys to the salon for their cuts. I was feeling particularly...old, and I ended up having layers put in and long bangs cut in and...voila! I have my high school big hair back!
I did NOT, however, stoop to buying flourescent blue eye shadow.
Giggling over the sledgehammer. Now wondering how many wild things I can say without anybody catching on...
ReplyDeleteAnd I'm doing the 13 sans code, too, because it didn't work in my page.
If you start penciling in your eyebrows while at the same time wearing fake eyelashes...
ReplyDeleteO. M. G. I'm having a midlife crisis. I told my husband I wasn't--that I just needed sex. (it worked, too!) But dammit, I bought myself a bikini. I'll probably never wear it in public, but I bought it.
ReplyDeleteAnd I've been doing #6 & #7 for a while now.
And I frequently threaten to shave my head. And occasionally go at it with the scissors because it's bugging me (it's still long, though).
I've had the convertible for (okay, now I'm hyperventilating) 19 years now. Shit. I'm old. Curse you, Kate.
I still like my house, though. At least I think I do, since it's been almost 3 years since I've seen it.
Off to go jump the husband again--even if it doesn't make the symptoms go away, it's a good way to forget. *g*
Oh, I considered using Mr. Linky for a little while, too... until my eyes started crossing and I decided it was too much trouble. Plus, eventually I'm hoping to be able to come up with witty comments like Doug does.
Hmm... apparently I'm having a midlife crisis at 30. Guess that means I'll die young. Fun!
ReplyDeleteGuess I'm not having a midlife crisis! I dealt with it by getting into writing. The stuff I wrote back in '01 was waaay over the top :)
ReplyDeleteThese are hilarious. My old boss was always calling me up and telling me to buy a tankini. I have a picture on my computer desktop right now of my dachshund/chihuahua called Tankini. I have no memory of why I name the picture that.
ReplyDeleteDoes it mean anything that I bought a convertible? Does that mean I'm over the top with the midlife crisis thing?
ReplyDeleteJust wondering.