“When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now…” gave me false expectations for growing older. I’m 28 and my hair has already started falling out. Thanks McCartney!

I’m going with the “when you first started feeling old” – Lately I’ve been taking on a lot of home/domestic projects. Long story short I spend a good deal of time in the hardware store and enjoy that experience too much. For example, I was excited about buying a pair of Carhart work overalls yesterday. It’s disturbing.

Alone with nobody near a distant voice unclear startles your sleeping ears and you think that somebody’s really found you. Dylan I thank all goodness and grace for your labor. Another sleepless night. Avatar signing off.

Music hasn’t ever made me feel old not even old music. Trying to keep up with others always has. I know what I like and don’t give a shit about what others think about my taste in this or that especially music. From a very young age music spoke to me informed me moved me both physically and emotionally. Made me wonder about STUFF.

Y El Haiku: “goodnight sleep tight” fan ||| though dad sang the lyrics wrong ||| perfect memories

i got old around the age of five, so i never had an edge to lose. or is my edge so rock-solid that it cannot be lost? ? …i do, however, feel a slight sensation of steel penetrating my back when a “classic” or “oldies” station plays songs from my high school years. that’s always a real drag. ? kudos to the young folks for exploring different ways to make and record music.

How about when I realized an old technology that I spent my whole life thinking was old got so old that it came roaring back when lots of people younger than me decided it was cool again! Who’s with me?

This is really good. It seems obvious but I had never thought about Third Man employees making music. I’m not old enough to have that moment yet, but probably gonna give someone that moment soon lol.

I have nothing for you other than this gem. It’s worth 2 minutes of your life: https://youtu.be/rbHkPZahYx4

I find that the stories that I write or tell people that seem to resonate the most are the ones when I am massively screwing something up or making a complete ass of myself. They never seem to be the feel-good stories where I triumph at the end or overcome some impossible odds. So, this is one of those, far from my best moment, but it taught me a lot.
I have four daughters, but my first one is 22 years old. I am 45 do the math, and I was screwing things up at a pretty early age and hence was not the refined responsible experienced father you see before you now.
Easter morning with my first 5-year-old little girl Sophie, all done up in her Sunday best, and excited to go on her first annual Easter Egg hunt taking place in my girlfriend of approximately 1 year small suburban town. It was sunny and beautiful, a perfect day for an Easter Egg hunt and I had heard whispers among the other parents of a golden egg hidden somewhere along the trail. Word had it that the golden egg could be turned in for the grand prize, a giant yellow stuffed duck tucked in a basket of candy wearing bunny ears. All I could think was “we gettin that Egg” We meandered through the woods and kids scurried this way and that snatching things up faster than my little girl could get there. I found my voice starting to raise with every egg we missed out on. “Over there over there” I would turn Sophie by grabbing her shoulder directing her, but now before she could react some other little minion would zip over and snatch up the colorful egg. More than once I had to keep myself from sticking a foot out just to watch some 6-year-old tumble head over ass as they dashed by.
We reached the end of the trail and our Easter egg guide, some annoying lady from the park board called out instructions letting everyone know that this was the end of the road and the place where the coveted Golden Egg was hidden. I grabbed Sophie’s hand and immediately started working a grid like pattern back and forth through the tall grass. Weaving in and out of other little kids’. My eyes scanning the ground wildly for any hint of gold that might be exposed. Behind me trailed Sophie stumbling along attached at the wrist to her crazy father who was determined to deliver her the golden egg and more importantly the greatest Easter memory of all time.
I kicked at the tall grass, broke a low hanging branch off a tree and started swinging it at sections of tall grass with no regard for any little kid who might be in my path. For ten minutes we worked the small patch of forest, and then it appeared. A flash of gold right at my feet, deep in the yellow grass and poking out from under a stick. Sophie at this point was just along for the ride, and I had to somehow signal to her that the egg was right in front of us. I squeezed her hand and she looked up at me with these giant confused blue eyes. I can only imagine how insane my face must have looked all twisted up. I raised my eyebrows and made some twitching incoherent nod with my head, while mumbling shit out the side of my face like some crazy ventriloquist. Finally, she looked down, and saw it. She leaned down and wrapped her tiny hand around the egg just as my worst fears became realized.
“PARENTS CAN’T HELP” the Easter egg hunt guide lady barked out for everyone to hear.
Every kid around me froze, and I looked up at the lady who was staring directly at me, with narrow accusing eyes. Then I saw it. The line of parents, and my girlfriend, and it washed over me like a tidal wave of embarrassment and regret. I looked around and what had been so obvious to everyone else finally dawned on me. I was the one and only parent who had been dragging my kid around looking for the egg. Probably 25 sets of parents and my girlfriend were all parked on the perimeter of the “egg search” area watching on as the kids searched. Normal rational parents who’s life didn’t seem to hinge on the finding of a worthless plastic gold colored egg. I looked down at Sophie just as she stood up holding the Golden Egg. At first a smile came across her face but then it began. It started with just one kid who was standing right next to us and noticed the egg in her hand and immediately put 2 and 2 together.
“They cheated, he helped her!!” He shouted pointing at Sophie, then another joined in, “that isn’t fair” and an angry mob of 5, 6, 7- and 8-year old’s began banding together and the chants of “cheater, cheater, cheater” echoed through the quiet Easter morning. One kid was up in my daughters face yelling “cheater” and I could see tears forming in her eyes and I have never wanted to tell a 7-year-old to “STFU” more. Finally, I heard some of the parents reprimanding their kids and the mob began to disperse. My girlfriend now my wife of 16 years who was standing with all the other parents, was a saint. It’s amazing she stuck it out, after that. She knew what my intentions were, as stupid and as misplaced. I just wanted my little girl to have the best Easter ever. We trailed at the back of the mob as we walked back up towards the rec center. What should have been the march of victory ended with me carrying Sophie her head on my shoulder face buried in my neck, and me furious at the kids who yelled cheater at her, the lady who exposed my parental help but realizing nobody was to blame but this idiot right here. We ended up telling the lady who ran it that we didn’t want to the grand prize yellow duck basket and I apologized for getting so caught up and she ended up donating it to a nonprofit kids home. We walked back to the car and I told Sophie I was sorry, she said “that’s ok” but then said, she didn’t want to do the egg hunt again next year, who could blame her, I was just crushed, it absolutely broke my heart. Turns out I was a massive dipshit, I was that stupid parent that I would now look at and say to myself “what is wrong with that dude?” It was horrible, and it is a story that now gets dropped almost every Easter Sunday dinner, it is one of my most cringe worthy moments.