The Middle Age Follies
A Slightly Skewed Look At Life
By And For Those Of Us On The North Side Of 50
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Okay! We have a spot in the living room where I can clearly see the front walkway, so the trick is for me to get an idea of when “the boyfriend” is going to show up. Play it up … act very interested and hap- … ha- … hap- … (deep breath … good thoughts … serenity now!) happy that he is coming over.
Once I know target time and date, remember to draw the curtains and keep the lights off. Very important, Rich! It makes me less visible, and since teens pay so little attention to me to begin with, they’ll never even think that I might be there.
So, I guess a bean bag gun is going to be best … but then again, why hit a teenage boy with bean bags in his soft, putty-like marshmallow fluff head…? I might as well throw feathers at him. How about … hmmm … what if…?
Tasers probably won’t work, since there clearly is no circuitry running to a boy’s brain (like they even have one!) It would be like applying electro-shock to an empty cardboard box.
Who was that Russian guy with the dogs? Pavlov! Think like Pavlov. What if I electrify the bean bag gun and aim for his private parts. A few blasts into the groinal region might privately convince the boys to privately keep their private parts private.
I know! What if I shake hands with them across the threshold, and then accidentally slam the door shut on their hands several times. I’ll have to time it right….how can I do this accidentally six or seven times? Be sure to look innocent and above all, be sincerely apologetic, at least as much as I can fake sincerity!
Damn! This could get tricky! Charles Barkley had it right: I should just shoot the first one and hope that word spreads. That was some great advice!
I … oh! Sorry! Was I writing all of that out loud?
I was … ah … you know. I’m … just joshing around. That’s it! Just kidding … I am such a big kidder of kids!
When our daughters began dating, I’ll confess it took some getting used to. After all, I was the one who made them repeat The Rule* on a weekly basis.
* Boys Are Stupid
I understood it was an important time in their lives, and that dating boys is a necessary part of their development into fine young women … at which point they will then realize that men are stupid, and that boys are even stupider.
[PAUSE FOR BLOGGER’S APOLOGY TO BOYS WHO ARE NOT STUPID. HA! HA! HA! THAT’S A GOOD ONE! I JUST KILL ME SOMETIMES! “BOYS WHO ARE NOT STUPID!” THAT’S TOO FUNNY! PAUSE TO ALLOW WRITER TO WIPE AWAY A COPIOUS AMOUNT OF TEARS]
Seriously, now….I had no problem with dating, contrary to my many joking assertions that boys are stupid and that my teenage daughters would be forbidden to date until I became certifiably senile in the far distant future. (Sometimes I really am such a great kidder! Ha! Ha! Ha!)
Boys are stupid, and they should be summarily tranquilized until their early 40s, and neither of my daughters will be permitted within an aircraft carrier’s distance of them until they’re 47 … my daughters, I mean. Not the aircraft carrier.
As a matter of fact, I think boys should go on aircraft carriers … far, far away from all civilization, where they spend their days forlornly waving large planes onto the decks in front of them, hoping that the aforesaid planes do not accidentally smash into their aforesaid groinal regions and causing discomfort that will last until their fifth or perhaps sixth decade.
Sorry. My bad! I didn’t mean to write that out loud either. It’s just that I get so agitated – thinking back to when I was a young man, when pretty much all I wanted … [PAUSE HERE WHILE AUTHOR ENVISIONS BOYS’ THOUGHTS—INSIDE CARTOON BALLOONS SUSPENDED ABOVE THEIR CARTOON BRAINS]
Perhaps I should just run those little bast#@^rds over before they—
So sorry. My bad again!
I’m going to have to end this, because now I’m recalling the time one of our daughters asked me to take her to the Mall to buy a prom dress. Those feelings wash over me quickly….
A prom dress? A prom? Does she have any idea what boys are like on prom nights? I really think I am just going to run those little bast#@^rds over before they …
So sorry. My bad again!
Actually, I took great delight when one of our daughters and their date would instead opt to stay home and spend time watching television in the rec’ room downstairs. They were always so respectful: lights were low to conserve energy; the volume turned low so as not to disturb my wife, and—
Wait a minute! What the—? How did they … ?
I need to make a couple of calls….