I think I’m turning into that crusty old guy down the block. The one who uses his cane to hit the ankles of nearby small children and threatens to take a shotgun to anyone who dares step on my pathetic patch of brown grass. Except without the shotguns, because obviously. I can’t properly use a pickaxe, who in their right mind would give me a gun?

Answer: Las Vegas.

No seriously, on an entirely unrelated tangent, I’m on a kick to go to Vegas, eat waffles, and shoot guns. Do not ask me how I have decided that this is the pinnacle of awesome – it just is.

See, my crustiness starts here: I’ve started to hate the doorbell ringing. It’s like junk mail, in human form. Either I get some assjacket who wants to sell me some crap I’ll never need, some kid wants to play with MY kid (negating the fact that it’s 10AM and KIDS SHOULD BE IN SCHOOL, DAMMIT!) and argues with me about my kid being home while I chew my tongue, trying not to yell, WHY AREN’T YOU IN SCHOOL? Or it’s another small person who wants to sell me outrageously overpriced cookies that I don’t even want to eat.


At 31, I’ve become that crusty wench.

I just hate those awkward social interactions, where two people stand there, staring at each other, not sure exactly how to proceed. Which is what happens every time someone rings my bell.

Perhaps I should get a doormat that says “Go The Fuck Away” or an electrified moat and change my name to Mr. Wilson.


Either way, I got a cane, and I’m not afraid to wallop you youngins with it.


I wrote this. It’s about recycling. Also? It needs some comments, if’n you have the time.


And I wrote this. I suggest you stay AWAY from the comments, unless you feel like having your head chewed off.


ONE LAST THING I SWEAR OMGBBQWTF. We’re doing a Hearts! Carnival on BB2G on Sunday – stories about love, hearts, problems with hearts, and all that good stuffs. I’m going to share a couple stories about my dad.

20 thoughts on “I’m Turning Into Mr. Wilson. Clearly I Need To Drink More.

  1. Ok – commented on the recycling and checking it out… not commenting on the other one 🙂 Vegas is like NOLA, it’s fun no matter when you go! Haven’t been to Vegas in ages… *sigh* have a little fun for me too, will ya?

  2. The doormat is out there. I once roomed with someone who had a “Go Away” doormat at our front door. Had a cute picture on it, too – a fox, I think.

    Clearly, your title is correct and you need to drink more. How could you not want to eat those cookies! I bought my first 4 boxes the other day. They freeze amazingly well, and I’m usually still eating the little lemony ones in summertime. Yum.

    I’m totally jealous if the girls still sell door-to-door in your neighborhood. I have to hope I hit the right store at the right time when the tables are out.

  3. I feel the same exact way. I hate when someone knocks on the door. I’m one of the people who duck so that can’t see me through the window. Avoidance is a service I provide to all who dare knock on my door. Unless you’re bringing me something cool or one of those giant checks, stay away.

    As for Vegas? Take me with you! I beg you!

  4. Please come to the swamps of east Texas because I need help shooting guns at dogs. I don’t necessarily intend to hit the dogs, just scare the fucking shit out of them so that maybe they won’t come back to my RV park and terrorize me and my little tiny puppy. Also, nobody knows where I live, so nobody could find us to ring the doorbell. OH, wait, there is no doorbell on an RV. Another reason you should come to the swamp!

  5. Count me in. I love waffles and can be in Vegas in 6 hours! Shooting things in the desert is an added bonus. Maybe we should stick with pellet guns though..safer given the amount of alcohol we might be consuming.

  6. I feel the same way. My socializing time is any time I am out of the house. Once I get home, I like to shut out the rest of the world. If my daughter is home also, I turn off my cell phone since I can’t stand the sound of it ringing. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up if someone knocks at my door.

    It is my safe haven. Go Away!!!

  7. My friends and family know that I do not like unexpected company. I am anal, what can I say? They know to call first (you know, if any of us decide to answer it.) Those who know me best know to contact me via email.

    I have a window on my front door and if I don’t know you, I don’t open the door. (We should both get one of those signs saying NO SOLICITORS, hmm, maybe tomorrow.)

    For a time I was kind enough to open the door to the freaking bible thumpers (Jehova Witnesses, have them there?) and take their pamphlet. Then I started with the “Gotta go, baby in the bathtub!” line as really, how can they compete with that? Now I don’t even open the freaking door 🙂 Just smile and wave.

    Used to be somewhat sympathetic to the telephone solicitors until I realized just hanging up was a better use of BOTH our time.

    I have become a crotchety old woman. And damn if it doesn’t feel good 🙂

  8. AB! Please come to Vegas and hang out with me. There aren’t many people here in the asshole of hell which is Vegas that are full of the awesome like you. I wanna meet my hero.

  9. I became the same way at 29 after my the birth of my first kid. Now almost 9 years and 4 kids, the only social interaction I want with anyone is through my blog, Facebook or text messaging and that goes for the people within my own house……LEAVE ME ALONE!

  10. I knew I was the angry guy on the street when I called the BBB and sent angry emails to a company that was trying to swindle people into switching energy companies. I even followed the “salesmen” around the street after telling them to F*ck Off so that they wouldn’t swindle any of my neighbours.

    Serves them right!

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