There comes a time in our lives when we must accept the inevitable defeat of age, compile our bucket lists, and then don our circulation enhancing compression socks, kick back, and wait for the sweet embrace of dementia to squeeze the crap into our Depends. And here, at the ripe old age of almost 31 years of age, it is my time to join this illustrious geriatric society.
Okay, so not really, but it’s easy to see how I could be mistaken based on the contents of my mailbox. Yesterday, I got a membership invitation to AARP, an invitation to the spring Symphony Gala, and a catalog called “Make Life Easier.” Only one of those things was relevant to my interests, if not age appropriate.
Anyone familiar with the origins of WTF Friday knows that I get a ton of catalogs in the mail, so what’s one more, right? Let me stop you right there and reintroduce that relevant to my interests concept. Not only did this catalog contain a bevy of shit I could not care less about, but I almost nodded off 3 times in their 127 pages of crap. And not just any crap. Oh, no! This is crap geared specifically to OLD PEOPLE.
I have nothing against old people, per se. In fact, I someday hope to be one and then kick off before I start shitting my pants. You see, I always saw myself as aging gracefully and being that kick ass grandma who buys her grandkids condoms and porno mags (or apps. Shit, when I’m old, they may very well have interactive porno holograms and I will buy them for my grandkids, as long as they promise to wear a condom.). At the very least, I pictured myself as a small, sage old lady like Master Yoda, only without the ear hair.
But rather than getting catalogs geared toward old people with active lives who perhaps need some ski goggles with bifocals or ergonomic sex swings, I get this shit.
Double-grip sock garters
Wait, they still make these? What is it about 60 year old calves that a sock won’t hug them anymore? I thought grandparent type people were cuddly? So instead of the sexy kind of garters that hold up my thigh highs, I get to look forward to calf garters to hold up my compression socks. Stylin’.
Telescoping handle litterbox scoop
Yay! Now when I go all crazy cat lady, I won’t have to get down on my hands and knees to scoop Fifi’s crap! Wait, once you get the crap scooped up in that thing, how are you supposed to get it in the garbage bag without spilling it everywhere? Bitch, please. When I’m old, cats will have evolved to use the toilet.
Incontinence throw blanket
Nothing about this is okay. An incontinence pad that looks like a throw blanket? Jesus christ! What happens if you’re a little senile and you forgot that you peed on it and then turn around 5 minutes later and cover up in it? Blech. I need a shower now.
Jumbo adult bib
Fashion meets function for the fashion and function impaired. I mean, even the classiest rib joints in the country just cut holes in a plastic hefty bag and drape it over you. This? This is just sad.
Spray-on headstone cleaner
When the indignity of using all this other stuff finally catches up to me, I’ll probably kill myself. But when that happens, I’ll at least go into death with the same anal retentive cleanliness that I had in life. Ken, get your Sham-Wows ready, baby. I need me a clean tombstone.
And now, having fulfilled my post quota for the week, I shall go assemble my new recliner, kick back, and watch me some Matlock reruns.