When I Grow Up

I love it when I have an interesting and original blog idea. This one is inspired by two loyal members of the Rants Army who cycle through bouts of relative age jokes and accusations of homoerotic activities. Thus provided with A) A clear example of the fact that I wasn’t that bad as a kid, and B) proof that there are some eventualities I don’t want to steer toward, the two ideas sparked the thought, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Of course applied to my 42-year-old present self, because one thing I’ve been reminded of forcefully is that being “grown up” is a perpetually-moving target, just out there near the horizon. Sort of like the dream where you have no pants, and try to run but go nowhere… or maybe not.

In my mind, somewhere down the road, there will be a time when I’m done with Career #2 (I am on #1 now, #2 is a foregone conclusion – thanks, you Commie Liberals) and finally have double-digit percentage increases in Me Time. I suspect that on this Someday I will have a light coat of sawdust and smell as such, have perpetual spots of glue on my hands, and likely a lot more scars from the wrists down. The under-fingernail areas will be perpetually caked with something that does not wash off with common solvents. I will occasionally have spots of paint on my head. I may have my own hand-made coffin hidden somewhere out of Di’s sight, not because it would bother her but just because I don’t want to be nagged about the time wasted making it just so I can be cremated in it and used for cat litter.

I also picture myself wearing some of the tee shirts I currently own, and shorts. Unless it’s cold, in which case I will have sweats. Unless Di has clouted me in the junk with her walker leg and compelled me to ‘go out’ somewhere with her, in which case I will have bluejeans on. In none of these cases will I even entertain thinking about underwear, because at that point I won’t have a good reason to need them. That, and I’ll be so fucking old I can do whatever I want, fashion-wise. Odds will be good I’ll still be inappropriately barefoot or close to it.

I may well employ some kind of mobility device myself, but I’m putting off that thought and trusting science and technology. Same story with the hearing, so when I don’t hear you or ask you to repeat yourself, it is merely to piss you off. All whispered grandchild secrets will be received and kept, however, with a wink and a nod. I will, by this time, have some quite alarming eyebrows, which the same great-offspring will enjoy playing with, possibly braiding, or coloring with markers. These will be white, and will match the ear hair that by then I will have completely given up trimming. As for the rest of the hair, such as it may be, I will likely put that in a pony tail to keep it out of my face. Shaving my head will have gone the way of underwear because, hey, nothing I do at that point could possibly make me look any better. Why bother?

Everything in our home will function perfectly, I like to think, and there will be a lot of custom-made shit and built-ins. I strongly suspect that on my desk, in my office, my cat Dixie will be converted post-mortem into a pencil sharpener, and you can guess where the pencil goes. I will love odd stuff like that, because I’m a crazy old man. The kids and Di will roll eyes and shake heads behind my bent back, but the grands will think I’m awesome because I will fingerpaint with them, do Legos, blow shit up with firecrackers, and fry bugs with a lens. Maybe I’ll make custom Barbie furniture, but not that shitty pink. They will get older but still think I’m bomb because I will know the answer to all their ‘why’ queries, but will probably whisper questions to Gram about why I cry during the National Anthem and make them STAND UP for it at 4th of July events but never explain myself.

Being an Old Fucker, though, I think there will be quite a bit of porch sitting. And beer swilling. And tobacco juice spitting. I definitely will be channelling Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino, except not the racist bastard part. Cranky definitely, and probably generating a Hate Force Field so powerful that squirrels will drop from branches spontaneously dead because I deliberately hate at them. So cantankerous that if cancer invaded, it would have to go to the doctor because it got Rants. I plan on being so ornery that both my Congressman and Senators will have special mail inboxes for me for the letters they fear reading but get weekly and make interns read, who later will require therapy. My kids will merely threaten to make the grandkids stay with me and that will be punishment. That part will be after the angelic child phase but before the return-to-humanity phase.

Yeah, I’m looking forward to it already.


95 Responses to “When I Grow Up”

  1. AHahahah XD . If you turn out as Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino , consider yourself at the end . :p

  2. I always imagined when I got old, I would channel my inner Norman Thayer and be the exact sarcastic old bat he was. I’m securely on my way….

  3. I’m already old. I think any hope of growing up has flown out the window. Is there such a thing as a cantakerous old man with the maturity of a 14 year old?

  4. It sounds like you’re going to be a great old man!!

  5. Luckily, you only have a few more years to go. 😉 My Rockstar and I have talked about this; we plan on sitting on our porch (which we don’t have yet) in the middle of nowhere, drinking ice-tea and target practicing on all the asshats who come trying to sell us stuff. Maiming only, no killing. Like the old dudes in “Second-Hand Lions”

  6. Becoming Bitter Says:

    I laughed and then I was touched. Touched you ask? The part where you described what kind of grandfather you were going to be. I think you’ll be an awesome one too. Both my grandfathers died before I could meet them. I hear a lot of stories, but I wish I had met at least one of them.
    Oh yeah…one more thing…I don’t think 42 is old.

  7. Great post! But I don’t plan on ever “growing up”. 😉

    My paternal grandfather did the crotchety old man thing … but we all knew it was an act. Your description of the grandfather you plan to be made me smile because it sounds a lot like he was. 🙂

  8. savorthefolly Says:

    I always say that I can’t wait to be an old lady so I can hit people over the head with my purse and get away with it.

    and you cry I imagine because you know people who have made the ultimate sacrifice – and how easily it could have been you instead of them. our children do need to understand that – that we need to honor them by standing, crying, whatever – doesn’t matter how – but yes we need to honor them.

    nice post brainrants. I know you’d rather die then get this honor again – but this one is also FP worthy.

  9. One day my wife lovingly observed, “You’re never going to grow up. You’re just a Peter Pan.” to which I lovingly answered, “Thank you.”

    You’re only young once, but you can be immature forever!

  10. I’ll see ya over the hill as a rotound cookie baking, gun wielding, cussing grandma with silver hair and crazy colorful outfits. =)

  11. You have MUCH to look forward to. You’ll be a grand Grand!

  12. John Erickson Says:

    Of course you won’t wear underwear. With all those MREs, you’ll be permanently incontinent. Depends for the Old Man in Aisle 3! 😉
    I think we all need to plan on retiring to the same compound. You in command, me on commo, Savor on the wall during the day, HE on transport during the day, both of ’em providing entertainment at night (oh, I am SO dead for that one! 😀 ), and Elite as the pool boy. Everybody else is welcome, we can ALWAYS find roles for ’em!

    • I think it’s both funny and ironic that you have me on transport, as I have a CDL with a tanker endorsement. And I’m game for the night shift if Savor is. 😛

      • John Erickson Says:

        You can get a CDL add-on for driving tanks? As a civilian? COOL! Does that also let you drive Bradleys and Strykers too? 😉

        • I wish! I know of a few Priuses I’d like to have crushed today.

          • John Erickson Says:

            You know, you COULD always pick up a used Hummer H1, put on a light suspension lift, and just run those Priuses (Prii?) down. Me, I’m working on a crossbow with a wire attached, so I can harpoon and ground their battery packs. 100 mile range my shiny white backside! 😀

          • You are my HERO!

          • John Erickson Says:

            Actually, a friend of mine and I engineered a vehicle over 25 years ago. We planned on taking a bone-stock full size pickup, move the engine behind the cab, raise the suspension and put on an “inflate on the go” system similar to the Humvee. We would then reinforce the front and back ends, sufficient to bang into anything at up to 50mph without damage. We were gonna call it “Greyhound” and go hunt Rabbits. 😉
            If you ever REALLY want to work out your destructive car-based fantasies, there is a little game called “Car Wars” by Steve Jackson Games. You can get a starter version that lets you build cars with about a half-dozen or so weapons, and move up until you’ve covered semis, helos, boats, and fixed-wing planes, motorcycles, even trikes. It’s moderate-term future post-apocalyptic based, and everything (initially) is electric powered, but there is an expansion system that covers gasoline engines. Yes, you CAN take that mid-size family sedan, put a 700 CID engine with turbo AND superchargers (plus nitrous), and go flying along at 200 mph, blowing stuff off the road either by speed or by firepower. You haven’t lived until you’ve designed a semi that can drop both ice and oil AND mines (or explosive tire spikes), while hammering away at the tailgater with twin 20mm Vulcans shooting AP ammo. Or get behind them and shoot them with a 105mm tank gun!
            Yes, I am a sick fu……er ….fella. 😀

          • But…does it have a Prius?

          • John Erickson Says:

            I assume you’re asking if “Car Wars” features hybrids, and no, not as of when I was last following the game. (It’s been a couple decades – they might have added that stuff by now.)
            If you’re talking about Greyhound, it could roll over anything smaller than a Caprice. Priuses would work great with their swoopy shape – easy approach and departure angles!
            I kinda wanted to keep our old 90 Subaru wagon around – it could’ve made a “mini-Greyhound”, since it had the flat-4 engine that could mount in the cargo area. But the wife wouldn’t let me. She has this thing about my NOT running into other cars. Spoilsport!

          • I’ve got a ’84 Ram Charger with a 360 that could do some damage. I’d be inclined to rig the front end with pneumatic pistons and call it “bumping” instead. Looks less aggressive on the police report.

          • John Erickson Says:

            Or rig your truck with a hand-operated parking brake, and let them “bump” you. After all, how much damage can they do to the back of your full-size pickup, compared to the mauling of their cooling system YOU can do? 😀

          • I have a ’96 Chevy Blazer with no built-in weapons, no toilets, swimming pools, or hand-job machines in the seats. It’s on its second engine, second tranny, 6th set of brakes, 3rd radiator, 2nd complete AC system, and the radio doesn’t work without draining the battery. The driver seat has power everything, but the backrest is stuck in “chill position” because the handle broke off. The car smells like hot asscrack mixed with Chee-Tohs. The power windows and power locks work intermittently but best on days ending in “R” and the back hatch window wiper only twitches like an 90-year-old cock in need of Viagra when switched on. It has a luggage rack that I swear to god the friction of air molecules have worn the paint off in some spots. There is teen bitch glitter worked into the very metal of the frame.

            Given that, could we come Pimp my Fucking Ride instead of electronically masturbate about what we’d love to do to cars if we had the time, money, interest, marital freedom, planet- and star-alignment, and notional unlimited access to a Regular Army Arms Room of a Heavy Brigade? Why? Because I have absolutely zero of any of the above, to include the arms room access at the moment, and if you all are going to sit and tease me like this then I demand a well-lubricated reach-around with dirty talk.

            For free.


          • Dude, just buy a Prius.

          • John Erickson Says:

            Not sure what I can do by remote. I’d suggest a hot-wire of the seat (temporarily) to get the backrest up, though I’ve noticed GM likes the seats laid back (except for “sports seats” like in my Z-24). Get an aftermarket radio (boneyards have them cheap, and they’re dead easy to remove) and a couple gallons of Febreeze for the stink. I can’t diagnose the power windows over the ‘Net, but they might need the same bypass I rigged on our Subaru wagon – straight from the battery with an inline fuse, screw the complicated wiring harness. Take the cargo rack off unless you use it, and seal the holes with bathtub caulk.
            And I’ll stop writing about armed cars, at least for tonight. (And I don’t have access to unlimited arms or money, either – I’m nursing a 16-year old wagon along with shot rear power windows and it’s second tranny, and trying to get a 24-turning-25 year old Cavalier up and running. So I feel your pain on that front.)
            Okay, HE, no more car/arms stuff. I don’t want to upset ‘Rants anymore – tonight.

          • Roger that. 🙂

          • John. Dude. You started this on the last post from yesterday. Look, my good friend, if you have this much shit in your noggin to spew, get your own blog. It could be about all things militaria. It could be about reenactments. I could be about militaria needed for reenactments. It could be about how older folks don’t understand younger bloggers with semi-fucked-up attitudes.

            I’m. Just. Sayin.

          • John Erickson Says:

            Hey, I’m workin’ on it. Well, I HAVE people workin’ on it. Until then, you’re stuck with me. 😀

          • That’s code for “Black Ops” right John?

            (Sorry Rants. You know I just HAD to do that)

          • You are always forgiven, H.E. Even in advance.

          • All Priuses (maybe Pri-i ??) should be crushed.

        • No. Leave that to me.

      • Why am I not surprised? About the CDL that is.

    • Not touching this. I value my life. *looks around for Savor*

      • savorthefolly Says:

        Oh John, I will be happy to provide entertainment for the night – but it will come in the form of me pointing my tallons at you and verbally removing your manhood.

        as for me being on the wall. hmm…I’m a bit lost – have I been conscripted into an army? I don’t think that’s a good idea. I really don’t take orders very well.

        • *still keeping mouth well shut*

        • John Erickson Says:

          Aw, you wouldn’t do anything nasty like that to me, would ya? I thought you liked me too much! 😉
          Just ’cause we draft you doesn’t mean you have to follow EVERY order. We’ll just give you a whole heap of ammo, and let you decide who on the outside to shoot, with what, and how many times.
          After all, there is no such think as overkill, just “reload and continue firing”. 😀

      • savorthefolly Says:

        naw, you’re right John E., I luv ya too much to hurt a hair on your head. but I’ll cut yur balls off if you talk like that to me again. *shit eating grin*

        • Just keep in mind: “outside the wall… OUTSIDE”

          • John Erickson Says:

            What, so now you’re gonna grumble about being fragged? Jeez – I can’t hijack your blog, I can’t design armed vehicles, now I can’t designate “friendly” targets…..
            Yes, SIR, Lt. Col. Buzzkill, SIR! 😉

        • John Erickson Says:

          Okay, I’ll be good, I promise. Besides, I KNOW you wouldn’t harm a hair on my head, ’cause there ain’t none left! 😀

      • savorthefolly Says:

        you want me to throw his balls outside the wall? *look of bewilderment*

      • savorthefolly Says:

        Naw…I’m just messin with ya. I’d be happy to provide the entertainment with H.E.. What did you have in mind? *straight face*

      • savorthefolly Says:

        I have heard they get really stretchy the older you get. So ya got that to look forward to. 😀

    • Pool boy? Fuck that shit, I’m your CO, John. You answer to young, upstart, newish but genius army major general. I’m the military’s fucking doogie houser bitches!

    • WHEN are you getting your own blog, John? It’s way past due. IF you don’t soon, we’ll all just gonna chip in and GIVE you one.

  13. The pencil sharpener idea is the killer. Let’s just hope the cat Is gone before it can bat at your pendulous and unrestrained old man scrotum which is bound to be hanging out of your shorts.

  14. John Erickson Says:

    Sorry, my friend. No wish to shanghai your blog. Forgiven?

  15. I plan to be in denial, and live among the young people undetected for the rest of my days. I’ll still tell people to get off my lawn. I’ll just be in random places when I do it, like a park, or a highway median, or your house.

  16. Just to clarify, Rants, those two “members” wouldn’t happen to be Savor, John, or I now would they? ;D

  17. “I definitely will be channelling Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino” – I actually think of you as this already, but take this as a compliment because I loved Eastwood in Gran Torino!

    I also like that this post is the total opposite of my “Dear Younger Self,” – funny :]

    • I may do one of those because there is enough shit for about fifteen posts in it for my ass.

      Not sure what to think of your opening remark… fuck, I’m 42, not dead. I will opt to let you attain my age, recall your comment, and have a facepalm moment.

      I still think you rock, though!

  18. I would look forward to that too! I’d hang with you anyday 🙂

  19. I’m gonna be George Carlin when I get old.

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