I used to live in a condo across the street from the beach in south Florida. Our condo (filled to the fucking brim with old, crotchety people) had entered into a contract with the condo across the street (which was also conveniently filled to the brim with assholes). The contract gave our residents legal access to the path to the beach.
At least once a week some crabby jackass would stick his liver spotted head out of the window and scream, "GET OFF MY BEACH!!!"
The weird thing is that we weren't even ON the beach yet. We were always screamed at just when we were opening the gate. The other weird thing is that the Crotchety Window Yellers never, EVER used their own beach. They sat inside of their dark condo with their asses sweating on the plastic cover on their sofas, just indescribably pissed off that someone was having a nice beachy day.
One of the reasons we left Florida was because I started developing a prejudice against old people. I'd see some old fucker scowling across the aisle at Publix and my hair would bristle. I would expect the worst from every old fart headed my way; unfortunately I was almost never disappointed.
It got to the point where I really wanted to drive around with a big shovel so I could smack people in the face with it. That was my Ah-Ha moment - I needed to get the fuck out of there. Back to a place where people were civil to each other. To where dinner parties don't start at 4:30 in the afternoon. Back to where the only people who have blue hair are gothic strippers. And back to where 85 pound men don't drive cars bigger than my first apartment.
I've learned to love and enjoy old people again, although I must admit, I avoid my local grocery store on Senior Citizens get a 5% discount day like I would avoid a flaming case of herpes.
At least once a week some crabby jackass would stick his liver spotted head out of the window and scream, "GET OFF MY BEACH!!!"
The weird thing is that we weren't even ON the beach yet. We were always screamed at just when we were opening the gate. The other weird thing is that the Crotchety Window Yellers never, EVER used their own beach. They sat inside of their dark condo with their asses sweating on the plastic cover on their sofas, just indescribably pissed off that someone was having a nice beachy day.
One of the reasons we left Florida was because I started developing a prejudice against old people. I'd see some old fucker scowling across the aisle at Publix and my hair would bristle. I would expect the worst from every old fart headed my way; unfortunately I was almost never disappointed.
It got to the point where I really wanted to drive around with a big shovel so I could smack people in the face with it. That was my Ah-Ha moment - I needed to get the fuck out of there. Back to a place where people were civil to each other. To where dinner parties don't start at 4:30 in the afternoon. Back to where the only people who have blue hair are gothic strippers. And back to where 85 pound men don't drive cars bigger than my first apartment.
I've learned to love and enjoy old people again, although I must admit, I avoid my local grocery store on Senior Citizens get a 5% discount day like I would avoid a flaming case of herpes.
Comments
Watch for the discount stores, too.
My wife decided to take us to one in order to see if we could find something interesting for a Halloween costume.
Well, I nearly got brained by an old lady for picking up a necklace that she'd looked at, then set down.
How was I to know that picking up something and setting it back down meant that she was going to buy it?
I also avoid places like the bread store on their bargain days, too. Something about losing my teeth over a couple loaves of bread just isn't my idea of fun!
And what kind of old fart yells at beach babes? Should have baked them some Viagra cookies; then they all would have been too busy gettin' busy to worry about who's on the beach!