Fuck me.
I'm fifty tomorrow. How the smeg did that happen?
Time to wallow in self pity …
I wonder what seventeen year old Dive (lithe and toned and enjoying copious sex with the hottest girl in school - hi, Judith) would have done had I known that at fifty I would be a saggy, balding sack of shit, living a loser's life alone in the middle of nowhere, without a girlfriend for so many millennia that if a naked woman were to drop into my lap I wouldn't have the faintest idea what to do with her.
Add to that a seven hour a day commute through the lower regions of Hell, bed at nine o'clock every night, alarms shrieking at four-forty in the fucking morning, a social life somewhat less romantically eventful than that of Lonesome George (look him up) and nothing to look forward to until the merciful oblivion of death.
It's gonna be a fun birthday.
I very much doubt seventeen year old Dive would have said "Yay! Good one, dude. That's just the way I planned it!"
I've said it before and I'll say it again:
Roll on death
(it's like roll-on deodorant only much, much heavier).
At least I'm another year closer to it.
I am so fucking glad there's no afterlife.
Joy might say "Look forward to your next incarnation."
Shan might hand me a fire extinguisher and wave me off with "Good luck down there, you miserable sinner. Send me a postcard."
But thankfully, here in the real world dead means dead.
Finito.
Nada.
Oblivion.
A total cessation of the existence of self.
Forever.
Woohoo!
It can't come soon enough.
All that will be left of Old Dive will be the constituent atoms of my flabby old corpse which will be free at last to go off and do something more interesting, exploring the wonderful world of rotting and decomposition; whooping it up with all those fun chemical processes.
At least my atoms will have more fun than I'm having.
While I'm waiting for that I might as well use my fiftieth birthday as an excuse to be really fucking grumpy and to snap at people.
Not that there'll be any people to snap at; I'm working from home tomorrow.
With the curtains shut.
I might celebrate by slamming some doors.
In the evening I'll go to Japanese class and smirk at my shiny little teenage classmates so full of innocent hope for the future - HA! - smug in the knowledge that they've got all this crap to come - a lifetime of misery, despair, heartbreak and rejection, lost hope and failed dreams - and wondering if they'll fuck up their own lives as totally as I've fucked up mine.
At least that's an achievement of some kind.
I'm a first rate fuck-up.
In the game of life I've played to lose and have been spectacularly successful.
So where's my framed certificate of loserdom?
Eh?
Bastards!
What's it like, having a life, bloggy-people? I honestly can't remember.
And what the fuck DO I do with a naked woman should one drop into my lap?
Do they come with a Haynes Manual?
Or a tool kit?
Which hole do I blow in to get a tune out of one?
How do I change the plug?
Not that I'll ever get a girlfriend so you don't need to hurry with your answers.
Fuck fifty.
Fifty is the new bleah!
Can you tell I'm not at the peak of my perkiness today?
37 comments:
Looking through my Miscellaneous file tonight I found an old Roz Chast cartoon featuring a kid standing in front of a rack of Starter Sympathy Cards. Since you’re going to snap at me no matter what I say in response to your impending birthday, I figure I’ll try to make you laugh first, to get you off balance. Here are the sentiments on the cards in the cartoon, which I fling across the ocean in your general direction:
For You in Your Time of Freakedoutedness
I Feel Your Pain Dude
That is So Totally Depressing
Yo. Tragic.
Bummer
Majorly Bites
Bad News Homey!
No Way!
Jeez
What a Drag!
That Really Sucks
That is so Wack!
I am in, like, Shock!
Harsh
Tough Break
So, So Unfair!
Hugs from California Dive!
Yes I can tell. I just can't believe your description of yourself is true, Dive. You don't seem that way to me and you certainly don't look like that in the lively, jolly, attractive pictures you post when blogs collide. You are simply too hard on yourself which I know is stating the obvious. Fifty. Well I'm up for the same next April. Sigh. I don't want it either. We should try to look at the positives though. We're more mature, experienced, knowledgeable...blah blah. Think of the wonderful old men we saw at the cenotaph, one 112 years old! We are half his age! How lucky we are to have such a time (hopefully; let's hope) stretching before us. Imagine what we can do with our lives in the second half. Look forward, Dive, with a positive attitude. You have too many talents and likeable qualities to be flailing in the mire like this. See how you are admired here, for example.
- What to do if a naked woman lands in your lap? Oh, you'll know for sure. ;)
I would say that, but not before saying 'Look forward to the next year' or even 'Look forward to December or January because I have plans for you and...' :D
At the very least, look forward to Saturday - I know I am. Can't wait for that cake! :D
And you know what they say. It's like riding a bicycle. You have ridden one before, right?
hee hee.
Thanks, Katie. I needed that.
I did look for the positives, Lynn. The only one I could find is that I'm another year closer to death. Woohoo.
Sure, I'm knowledgeable, but what's the use of that if I can't even remember what day it is most of the time?
If a naked woman lands in my lap she'll probably just put my back out.
Sigh …
Joy: I am indeed looking forward to Saturday. I'll bring some of mum's yummy cake for you (I'll try to remember to post a photo of it tomorrow).
So let me get this straight … If a naked woman lands in my lap I need to pedal like crazy and try not to fall off her?
Do I need to wear cycle clips or a protective helmet?
That's right. Coz now that you're 50, you never know how rickety your bones may be. Or maybe they're not. But to be on the safe side, wear the helmet. And the knee pads. :D
Gosh, knee pads too?
I suppose I'd better add a reflective jacket and some goggles. I'm sure that'll attract the weemen.
I think if a woman remotely our age lands in your lap, she'll be unwilling to do much which will risk putting HER back out, so I wouldn't worry!
It upsets me when you speak of death so invitingly, Dive. I wish you wouldn't.
We all forget the day. What's more important is the stuff we've accumulated inside our heads and yours, in particular, is brimming!
Lynn: If a woman remotely our age lands in my lap I'll end up in traction.
I'm quiet happy with death. If there's one thing that's certain in life it's that you won't get out of it alive.
The amount of crap accumulated in my head is quite staggering. Actually locating any of it is, however, becoming far trickier as I get older.
As is remembering what I wanted it for when I do find it.
lol I know what you mean. Getting up this morning revealed aches I didn't know were possible without having a good time first and I've just been downstairs to get...oh...something or other... and returned without it..
In the band we always called that Michael's Law Of Slippers.
He found (and I find I do this more and more) that as he walks upstairs to do something or fetch something his brain fades so that by the time he reaches the landing he has no idea what he is doing there. So he goes to the bedroom, puts on his slippers and goes back downstairs, only to remember at the bottom what it was he went up there for in the first place.
I hate roll-on deodorant. Tomorrow will be lovely, you'll see, Dive. And those funky people in your Japanese class will make it fun. Stop your whinin'.
How's that for compassion?
Hee hee. I need you to kick my sorry ass out of its miserable pit every day, Robyn.
You're right; Japanese class is always fun. Though as Louisa reminded me this week: "You're not old! You're only twelve years older than my mum."
With friends like that, etc.
You are allowed one day out of the year to kick your own arse as hard as you can.
If I dont see a new recipe post on your blog soon, Im gonna come across the pond and kick your arse something fierce. I will bring a bottle of "whine" with me.
Oh, crap! I'd forgotten about the recipe posts.
I'd better start taking the camera into the kitchen again.
Though not tonight. Tonight the trains are crap so I'll just grab onigiri and sashimi on the way across London and eat 'em on the train.
Bellyache all you want, Dive! We know it's your way of saying the worst of all possible things for the best of all possible reasons.
Also, tomorrow, in the hope of finding you a suitable woman for that lovelorn lap of yours, I'll be posting a handful of retro hotties for you over at ISFK - with a Dive-friendly soundtrack to match.
Let me know if they tickle your ticklish bits.
And, as it's already Thursday here . . . Happy Candlefest, buddy!
M wants me to take her to Vegas for her fiftieth and get her a lap dance. I think you should do the same...maybe not Vegas but fly yourself somewhere warm and decadent and just have fun!
Happy Birthday Dive - it's just a number you're really only 16 mentally.
Happy B'Day for the morning Bro,
You can't be old because that would mean I will be old very soon and I'm still 25 !!!
I'm slowly backing away from my fire extinguisher and instead will choose to remind you that YOU, sir, eat WAY to many icky, I mean, healthy foods to not live 50 MORE years!! So, that gives me plenty of time to convince you that you could live a much less doom filled life with one simple act of faith.
That- or it's time to start dining on McDonald's type sustenance several times a week.
But for real. Other than the "Hell does exist" portion of my religion. I really have one of the easiest ones to join. A few words uttered (and believed) and BOOM! You're in. :D
You realize you ask for these comments. Don't you?
And one last thing... Fifty shmifty.
Hi, Lucio. I'll pop over in the morning to check out your retro-tottie. Hee hee. Sounds great fun.
Cali: I can't wait to visit California. But I'll have to as I have no money and no passport at the moment. Hey ho.
Look after the place for me until I get there.
A lap dance in Vegas?
Classy, Shazza! Hee hee. Go for it!
Cheers, Phil. I'm not that old yet … at least not for another three and a half hours or so.
Hi, Shan!
Ew! Mc.Donalds? I'd rather discover there is indeed a Hell and burn in it for the rest of eternity with cloven-hoofed dæmons poking my bottom with sharp, pointy things than eat a Mc.D.
You know I would dearly love to regain my faith. The words are not the problem; it's the belief that's proving tricky.
I'll keep trying, though.
I do indeed ask for these comments. I love them.
When you reach fifty you can say "fifty shmifty."
Carpe Diem
More like crappy diem, I'm afraid.
Dive, Dive, Dive! You are one of the most incredible people I "know"! You're a fabulous musician, writer, and artist. You have mastered the skill of cantankery (is that a word) and make people laugh on a daily basis.
I am quite sure working from home doesn't help your social life (I know it never did mine) and that's some of the issue. It is far too easy to pull down the shades and hide when you are all alone (in my case, the basement).
I do hope you get out of the funk and back to the spunk...and you can take that any way you wish hee hee.
Dive I'll post some hot chicks for you in honor of your birthday tomorrow over at my blog too. Can't let Lucio have all the fun! I'll post just after midnight my time, so you'll have something by breakfast time. I do hope you'll at least sleep in tomorrow, since you won't be going into London!
Well one thing is for sure, old and I do mean "fucking old" DIVE is back in rare form. I'm awaiting MY darkest day next month,dive.
I was 17 once...I think. I can't bloody remember much of it because it was totally misspent missused and wasted.
I know exactly what you need. You need to visit Nebraska and come to a Cornhusker game. We'll put you in a corn cob hat and make you eat a chili dog or a funnel cake. Maybe a deep fried Snickers bar.
And then you can watch the game with us and take a lovely little nap on the way home. There is something so wonderful about a belly full of bad food, an overheated car and pouring rain outside....
I am ALREADY fifty and I can tell you that it does indeed suck the big one. But, I have some really good pain pills and I will share.
Hey, Dive, I thought you were awaiting eagerly your trip to Paris next year. Don't bail on that!
Looking at 50 from the perspective of 66, 50 looks pretty good!
But look at what whining got you--lots of your friends commenting on your misery. I'm sure you'll make it to Friday; then Thursday won't seem so bad.
Happy Birthday, Dive!
http://ishotfridakahlo.blogspot.com/2008/11/addendum.html
I almost forgot, Happy birthday, Dive!!!!
fifty will be fabulous for you!
Happy Birthday, Dive. As Lupine Lady says, looking back at 50 from our ages (I'm pushing 70 and still play tennis 3x/week) 50 looks pretty good. Wallow all you want, but just don't make it a permanent condition, you're much too talented for that. I've enjoyed being introduced to you through Katie and your blog. Have a blast, and remember birthday cake has no calories.
Katherine: thank you for making my day.
"Cantankery" is such a brilliant word! Hee hee.
I shall make cantankery my mission in life.
Working from home's not so bad when it gives me back those extra seven hours a day that I usually spend commuting. These are the only days I have any time to relax.
Not that I DO relax, of course, but at least I have the option.
Katie: I'll be over to see your hotties … ahem … as soon as I've finished answering my comments.
Rich: Misspent, misused and wasted? That's exactly how seventeen SHOULD be spent! Well done. I must confess I did the same.
Maria: I'd LOVE to come to a Huskers game and wear the hat. Not so sure about the alleged food though …
You're right about fifty. I awoke this morning with a headache, backache and a left knee made entirely out of pain.
Hi, Lupine Lady! I'm still excited about Paris. It will be my reward for enduring another crappy year.
Lucio: Thank you for a lovely present. Bettie Page AND the Attack of the fifty foot woman!
You know how to make a happy man very old.
Rich: Cheers! Make the most of your last month of forty-nine-dom.
Cynthia: Thank you. I'll feel better by the weekend (I hope). Though my birthday cake is made entirely out of calories …
And … er … sushi.
I'll post a photo of it.
Kate: Cheers! I'm good at being an ass, which is apt as my ass is my best feature.
Look now, it's happened! Fifty isn't so scary after all! It's like one of my favorite kid books growing up 'The Monster at the end of this book' (starring "loveable furry old Grover" from Sesame Street). He dreads every page you turn until you get to the end because he is so scared of what he is going to find there.
Of course what he found at the end was that HE actually was the monster on the final page and there had been lots of unnecessary worry and struggle all along the way. Nothing was waiting there to consume him when he arrived after all!
So see! Don't you feel silly? You hit the dreaded fifty and are no scarier today than yesterday!!
Now if only it were just that simple.........
Even so, hope you have a fabulous celebration lovable furry, (not so) old, YOU!!!! :D
Hee hee!
Wonderful, Shan!
That's a great story to take up to bed with me. Though my mind is now awash with Sesame Street songs so how I'll get to sleep is another matter.
Thanks again for cheering me up.
This is one of your best posts yet. :) You are very, very funny. Oh, and very, very old.
Ha, my 40th is looming and all I can think of is how to be on the biggest adventure somewhere exciting. Like Pakistan. Take a trip, kick your heels up. Just don' topple over.
Hi, GG.
Boy am I old!
How can you be so young? You're virtually a kid. That's so unfair.
Sigh …
Bah. In itself, 50 means nothing. It is merely the meaning you attach to it, Grasshopper.
Reframe it baby! There's fun to be had.
Fun?
Ew!
Fortunately, I know you well enough to realise that your return compliment is completely devoid of sexual undertones.
At least I hope it is.
Hope your birthday exceeded - even if only by hair's width - your morbidly low expectations.
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