Comments on: You know you’re getting old when …

By: An Unreliable Witness

An Unreliable Witness — Sun, 11 Nov 2007 22:05:45 +0000

Elizabeth — Scrabble? Scrabble is most definitely cool. And far better than fashions.

Polite Charlie — Hello, and welcome, and thank you for your most polite comment.

Clarissa — Thank you. Some commenters know the way to my heart. Please send the drug stash to this address …

By: clarissa

clarissa — Sun, 11 Nov 2007 20:07:56 +0000

i really like polite charlie’s commenting style!

Now to the ol’ fogie who wrote this post: oh, bless you. I would happily share my (meagre) drug stash with you!

By: polite charlie

polite charlie — Sat, 10 Nov 2007 15:09:45 +0000

i really like your blogwriting

By: ELIZABETH

ELIZABETH — Fri, 09 Nov 2007 01:11:17 +0000

“Hello An Unreliable Witness”

my mother asked me to write a christmas gift list to make her life easier as apparently I would only ask for “weird cool fashion type stuff” and so upon handing her my modest list, she scorned.

Im still cool for wanting a new tea flask, scrabble and planet earth on dvd right?

Elizabeth

By: An Unreliable Witness

An Unreliable Witness — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 19:34:45 +0000

Melograna — How can I feel youthful and spry when you’ve just almost described me perfectly? (Oh God. Again.)

Miles Away — Meeting by email. Check. Getting home and not wanting to leave. Check. Yearning for the company of cats. Check.

Hello, my name is An Unreliable Witness, and I am prematurely elderly.

By: miles away

miles away — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 19:05:27 +0000

you know you’re getting old, also, when you would rather communicate with people via e-mail, rather than see them. and when you get home and don’t really want to leave. oh, wait, and also get the yearning for the company of cats.

miles away, determined to be mad cat miles away before too long

By: Melograna

Melograna — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 17:18:03 +0000

Yes, well, I bet you don't lie in bed of a night shouting: "turn that racket DOWN! It's half-past nine, for God's sake! It's not even music, anyway!" And then you have to get out of bed so you can remind everyone that you used to be a punk, you know, with a mohican and everything. And that this too will happen to them if they keep listening to that rubbish and smoking that shit. And you can see it in their eyes - they just don't believe it will ever happen to them. They will never be a sad over-forty person who doesn't like thrashy music and who has to get a proper night's sleep because otherwise she's all cranky and grumpy and looks like Frankenstein's mother with a hangover. I bet you feel all youthful and spry, now, don't you?

By: An Unreliable Witness

An Unreliable Witness — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 16:34:37 +0000

Bohémienne — Don’t worry. More impenetrable rubbish coming along soon. Like a bus. Er, two boses. Or something.

Andre — I am not in my kitchen. You are in my kitchen. Stealing my coffee again.

Elizabeth — I enjoy a good thesaurus, but I couldn’t masticate a whole one. (P.S. Don’t worry about Andre, I can’t cope with him either.)

Andre — Would you like me to scratch your head for you? Gosh, what a lot of hair.

By: andre

andre — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 16:12:24 +0000

*scratches head*

By: ELIZABETH

ELIZABETH — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 15:30:08 +0000

Unreliable,
the last gig I went to was held in a church. I sat for the duration. I applauded until my hands were sore. I complained of ringing ears the following day. I enjoy the thesaurus. And I am supposed to be YOUNG.

p.s Andre, your last comment was too much. I cant cope.

By: andre

andre — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 13:25:26 +0000

Dear unreliable friend,

Your kitchen is not an office. It is a kitchen.

By: bohémienne

bohémienne — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 12:46:19 +0000

Um. Did you think we wanted to know what you do with your time? Back to awing us with beautiful words we don’t really understand, please.

By: An Unreliable Witness

An Unreliable Witness — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 12:42:04 +0000

Gordon — Thank you for calling me a ‘kid’, Gordon. It’s 967 years since I was last termed in such a way.

Ani — Aaaaany tickets? Tickets for da gig, innit? Aaaaany tickets?

Andre — Yes, I found one. I got in their spacecraft. I am now on their planet. It is a bit grey and lifeless. Oh wait, it’s my office.

By: andre

andre — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 11:45:32 +0000

have you been out looking for astronauts again?

By: Ani

Ani — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 11:22:26 +0000

I’ve got an extra one for you: you arrive at the venue an hour before doors open because you are terrified of being late. Since you are also terrified of not being there when your friends arrive, you sit on the curb smoking and talking to the ticket scalper (reassuring him you have no spare tickets for sale) instead of going for a coffee.

Okay, maybe that one more aptly belongs under “You know you’re getting brain damage when…”

Yes. Long live eyelids!

By: Gordon

Gordon — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 11:17:29 +0000

You still go to gigs? It’s much more comfortable to sit at home, on a comfy comfy sofa and listen to the band on your stereo system.

Honestly, you kids…