Old people - why?

Hi All,

Why is it the nearer to the end of your life you get, you slow down. Well, you do, you old bastard at Asda today. Why are you and your kindred wrinkly brethren queuing up in Asda at lunchtime? You can go at any other time of the day. Where else are you going to go?

Here is the problem, I had 20 minutes out of my busy schedule (being young and having fun) to run down to Asda and get some baccy. Travelling around by car at lunchtime is absolutely fine. Everyone under the age of 50 are all haring around at 50mph because they have better, more interesting things to do. I had no problems today and managed a mile a minute in the roads where I work, so I reached Asda in very good time.

I arrive at the store and find a massive queue.

"It's ok." I thought to myself "They will all be Yuppies and we'll get through in seconds"

BUT NO!

The queue consisted of the kind of aged monstrosities that adverts in the back of the Daily Express are aimed at. People so wrinkly even facial features are lost in the caverness crevaces. People who have the whiff of Werthers Originals and bodily fluids about them. These...people were in the queue and they all had to have a 5 minute conversation with the cashier. After all, even though there are a coachload of people behind them of the same age, they need to have conversations with younger strangers who have no desire to speak to them, who have nothing of any joint interest and no need to see how many teeth they think they have left.

What annoyed me wasn't that they decided to all turn up at the same time, but it was the aged Yoda-ite in front of me.
He was wasting my time standing in a queue, having his time wasted, so he could buy a magazine that was purely designed to waste time. Not a crossword mag which at least may keep the old synapses firing, but a wordsearch magazine!

He was wasting my life, and his, deliberately, so he could go home and waste even more of his time.
For the love of smeg granddad, this could be your last 20 seconds left alive, and you are stood in a queue behind people, some of which are older than you and you are buying something to waste more of your valuable time.

Here's a tip for you old people.
Don't go shopping at lunchtime and the weekends, that's when we go shopping as we have to work. Go at other times during the day.
3 reasons:

1. The magazines turn up in the morning so there will be plenty of puzzle books.
2. If there is a queue, the only people there will be as old as you will, and if they die, that's one less person to serve before they get to you, and that may save your life.
3. Someone younger may save you all the effort of wasting your life on magazines and stab you.

The older you get, the faster you should move so you can appreciate the time you have left.
When I get old I am planning on plunging into the Sun at a million miles an hour. Why? Because it's a lot better than rotting in an armchair while looking for words joined to other words in a grid of words going nowhere at all.

Thanks for reading,

Marriage and Girlfriends

Hi all,

It's been awhile hasn't it? I've had a busy little life outside of this here blog recently what with one thing or another. One of things things was to get married.

Yes that's right, Trev is hitched.

No more dating for me, no more wierd women, no more odd girlfriends, no more playing the field. Ah well, what doesn't kill you makes you strong I suppose.

There are some strange women out there guys, some real wierdo's. Some are nuttier than a fruitcake, some are mental.
Let me take you back a few years to one of my strangest girlfriends. She was attractive and funny and quite good in her way, we went out for a while, and we got on quite well. Then the time came when she took me back to her place and to cut a long story short we ended up in her bedroom.

Awesome! I thought as we both ripped our clothes off. All my hard work has paid off! All that effort stalking her and going through her bins to see what music she liked and what films she was into and how much money she has, has been worth it.

It was when we hit the mattress that the problems started. You see, it was then that my eyes adjusted to the room. It was pink.
Very, very pink. Around the bed there was a pointless lacey thing that is only really suitable for beds in Africa.

Ok a bit girly, I thought, but then a problem arose. I won't ask you to picture the scene, I like to keep my dignity even in your warped imaginations. As I was "getting it on" I noticed a hundred beady eyes all watching me, all around me, every move I made was being observed by those cold shining eyes.
It put me off.

Well I say it put me off, if the words "put me off" equate to someone shouting "Arrrgh! The eyes!! THE EYES!!!" and jumping off the bed quicker than a homosexual with the shits. Of course she wondered what the problem was. She thought I was mental.
Apparently though standing there stark bollock naked, repeating the words "C-C-C-Carebear Stare" is not adequate proof that you aren't.

Thanks for reading,