| Commentary and Philosophy Non-Fiction posted January 1, 2024 |
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A welcome to 2024.
Happy Frigging New Year
by Terry Broxson
I did get invited to two New's Eve parties. One started at 7 PM, and the other at 8 PM. Who are they kidding? This morning, someone had already posted some pictures on the community's Facebook page—a bunch of old smiling coots eating pizza and drinking adult beverages.
I bet none of them made it past nine-thirty.
Of course, I sacked out at eight-forty-five. I had my magic finger vibrating bed, lulling me full of melatonin to dreamland, until 11 PM when some fools set off fireworks.
Don't those idiots know the New Year starts at midnight? Geez!
I did go to the grocery store this morning. The parking lot only had a couple of cars. I decided this year would be different from the past...dang, I'm not sure how many years, but no black-eyed peas today!
This New Year's Day, I will have chili—two-alarm chili. I'm not only throwing caution to the wind. I'm passing wind.
I wonder who started that blackeye peas thing about eating them on New Year's Day for good luck. Most likely, some farmer who had a bumper crop of black-eyed peas.
On the way back from the supermarket, the guys on the sports radio station were talking about how time flies when you get older. I'm an expert at this stage in my life, and it does.
One of the sports guys quoted a psychologist who said that older people need to get new interests and experiment with new things. This activity would open doors to new people and adventures that seem to slow down life for more enjoyable things.
That sounded really smart. I think all old people should look for new interests. But let me make one thing very clear. Don't look for me.
Oh, yeah, one more thing: get those decorations down already.
Happy frigging New Year!
I did get invited to two New's Eve parties. One started at 7 PM, and the other at 8 PM. Who are they kidding? This morning, someone had already posted some pictures on the community's Facebook page—a bunch of old smiling coots eating pizza and drinking adult beverages.
I bet none of them made it past nine-thirty.
Of course, I sacked out at eight-forty-five. I had my magic finger vibrating bed, lulling me full of melatonin to dreamland, until 11 PM when some fools set off fireworks.
Don't those idiots know the New Year starts at midnight? Geez!
I did go to the grocery store this morning. The parking lot only had a couple of cars. I decided this year would be different from the past...dang, I'm not sure how many years, but no black-eyed peas today!
This New Year's Day, I will have chili—two-alarm chili. I'm not only throwing caution to the wind. I'm passing wind.
I wonder who started that blackeye peas thing about eating them on New Year's Day for good luck. Most likely, some farmer who had a bumper crop of black-eyed peas.
On the way back from the supermarket, the guys on the sports radio station were talking about how time flies when you get older. I'm an expert at this stage in my life, and it does.
One of the sports guys quoted a psychologist who said that older people need to get new interests and experiment with new things. This activity would open doors to new people and adventures that seem to slow down life for more enjoyable things.
That sounded really smart. I think all old people should look for new interests. But let me make one thing very clear. Don't look for me.
Oh, yeah, one more thing: get those decorations down already.
Happy frigging New Year!
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© Copyright 2024. Terry Broxson All rights reserved.
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