Monday, 9 March 2009

Transformation

It is a well known fact to those who know it well that one of the basic tenets of evolutionary theory holds that eventually you will change into your parents. For some this happens sooner rather than later. I am beginning to notice the tell-tale signs that the turning is beginning to occur. The facts are these:-

1. Sofa Snoozing
I have noticed that recently I'm able to fall asleep in front of the TV more easily. Normally this would happen whilst too drunk to be constructively watching the television and would involve coming home, opening unnecessary booze (to be discovered three-quarters untouched the next morning), putting on a DVD and waking on the sofa six hours later to discover the DVD menu looping round and irritating the neighbours. Now it happens when I'm "just having a sit in front of the TV for five- ". The transformation will be complete once I awaken as someone tries to wrest the remote control from my sleeping fingers and then utter the phrase "I was watching that".

2. You Call That Music?
For a little while now, I've been looking at the charts in a bit of incomprehension and beginning to understand that feeling Ma and Pa had of "Who the bloody hell's that?" when sitting down to watch Top Of The Pops of a Thursday evening. Lady GaGa? Nope, don't get it. Katy Perry? But she's so dull. Why so popular?* Even the bands I used to like have begun to bore me. Kings Of Leon? When did they turn into Stereophonics? In my day, mutter, mutter, gibber, gibber...

3. The Front Door Sign
For many a year, my mother had a sign attached to the front door which read "No Jehovah's Witnesses - and we MEAN it!" (and also said "No takeaway leaflets" in smaller letters underneath). I've begun to contemplate the addition of this very sign, having been drawn to the door on my few lie-in days by some holy roller attempting to peddle their faith in my face. If you do suffer from a type of religion that you seem to believe needs spreading door to door like some sort of contagion then please go and see a priest about it. I, in my dressing gown, have no help for you.

4. Memory Like A, Er....
There was actually something specific which I did earlier which prompted me to think about writing this in the first place. but I cannot for the life of me remember what it was. Which is, in itself, another symptom of the transformation.

So there you have it. It has begun. It's going to be kind of like that scene in An American Werewolf In London. Only with less werewolfyness. And more comfortable clothing. Possibly one of those blankets that heats up. That'll be nice. Mmm.


* Oh, yeah, the massive nawks permanently on display. That'll be it.


6 comments:

Anna Russell said...

I noticed this happening to me at Christmas when I went to buy my 8 year old a CD and had no clue who anyone in the Tesco's top 20 was. It turns out Miley Cyrus is a person and not an international treaty of some sort. Go figure.

That Baldy Fella said...

I've been to Mileycyrus. I'm pretty sure it's an island, not a person.

Of course, this may mean that prominent ear hair is looming somewhere on the horizon...

Diane said...

This had better NOT happen to me. I'll shoot myself. And I live in the US, so it'll be easy. Just sayin'.

TishTash said...

I keep Legos at my apartment (flat to you, Englishman) and a baggie full of marshmallow bits that I picked out of a box of Lucky Charms at my work desk.

Clearly, Grown-updom is lightyears away. And unless there is finally a prototype of a ship with FTL capabilities, there it shall stay.

Steam Me Up, Kid said...

I actually said, "Kids these days!!" the other day, and shook my fist in front of me like an old geezer warning kids off his front lawn, but totally without sarcasm, which was scariest thing ever.

That Baldy Fella said...

Diane - Don't worry, you probably won't get the excessive ear hair. Maybe.

TishTash - Star Wars Lego is the way forward. I covet the Lego Death Star. (Grown-up that I am.)

SMU - If you followed it with "Why I oughta!", it may well be too late for you, I'm afraid...