In just a few more months, I will be getting Social Security money! Every month! For free! For doing nothing!
America, amirite?
God, I hate Republicans so fucking much. We'll get back to that in a moment.
When I was young and I thought about social security, I envisioned an ancient, arthritic, gnarled, ill-tempered old lady with her bra around her waist and stockings rolled to her knees.
Well, say hello to me.
Two of my arthritic fingers cannot straighten up without assistance from the other fingers (I tell people it's because I've played guitar for fifty years but it's probs from the decades of overuse, showing the bartender how much tequila to pour).
The ill-tempered thing? Got it covered. My secret is that my jeans are too tight.
And as for the bra around my waist, well, that's not from being too lazy to pull it up to my boobs. It's that my waist is WHERE MY BOOBS ARE NOW. You know, the mountain(s) went to....you get the idea.
If you follow me on FB, you are aware that I have given up underwire bras until we have a Democratic president. We each have to do our part in the Resistance. Life is too painful under this Mofo regime as it is, and anyway, I was certain that imma going to die of bra underwire. One sharp gasp and clutch to my breast at reading the latest headline about babies in ICE jail or killing the forests and POP! The wire breaks through the bra and ...Wacoal stake to the heart.
The only way my newfangled no-wire bralette is gonna kill me is the cost.
Which brings me back to social security. There are a few things about getting old that are just plain old awesome. If you are financially solvent. And healthy. And white.
I have aged out of Pap smears. Did you know this is a thing? Evidently, I'm now mature enough to be in charge of the welfare of my own cervix. It feels a little bit premature, truth be told. I don't feel ready. I've never taken care of a cervix before. When I was five, I kept forgetting to replenish the water for the little turtles we got on Olvera Street and they all died horrible deaths. How can I be trusted with my cervix? (Does it need to be watered?) Honestly, if the medical community is listening, what I'd prefer is that you guys keep a watch on my cervix and I will monitor my weight gain.
The other day, Robin and I had the dogs at the park. Louie and Phila present very well - they are attractive and well-groomed and not too Poodle-y, you know what I mean? Anyway, people complimented us on them (as if we had designed the Poodle) and then asked the inevitable question: "what do they weigh?"
Dudes.
That is SUCH a rude question.
I thought they were asking it about me, at first. Like, "Hey, that's a good looking wife you got there. What does she weigh?" Or, "She's a big girl, isn't she? What does it cost to feed her?"
And Robin could answer, "Well, she eats a lot of table scraps in addition to her meals. She's such a beggar."
And then I would fart.
And they would laugh and shake their heads because everyone knows that 65 year old women cannot digest chicken skin.
What was my point?
Oh, right. Republicans.
I really hate them.
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