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Dull
and Duller
I could see Gene Rayburn,
on the old 70’s game show Match
Game, looking at Charles Nelson Reilly and saying,
“Brad is so old he went to Portland, Oregon on
business without the wife and kids and blank…”
Charles Nelson Reilly would respond in his inimitable
way, “complained he was cold all the time and
watched his stories on TV instead of going out.”
Rayburn would then turn to Brett Somers, who would
add, “Slipped on an old fashioned men’s night
shirt and cap like Pa Ingalls wore on Little
House on
the Prairie, pulled out his pill box, and went to
bed at 9 o’clock every night.” And Fannie Flagg
would laugh.
Just the fact that I’m
familiar with Match
Game and know who Brett Somers, Fannie Flagg and
Gene Rayburn are is proof enough that I’m old. Truth
be told, I wasn’t quite that lame on my trip. I
actually stayed up until 11—even 12 one night—and
didn’t watch any soaps, or stories, as my
Grandmother referred to them. And the only reason I
was cold was because I couldn’t get the stinkin’
heat adjusted correctly in the room. I was either
dripping with sweat or had icicles forming on my nose.
I chose the icicles and several blankets.
Okay, I’m not buying my
excuses either. In fact, it’s even worse than my
recent Portland trip would suggest. Thanks to the
writer’s strike, I recently found myself watching Scott
Baio is 46 and Pregnant and My
Fair Brady (featuring Peter from The
Brady Bunch) on VH1. Unfortunately, I watched each
show several times—which needs to be carefully
evaluated in another column or on a psychiatrist’s
couch.
I’m not even 40 and
I’m already old and incredibly boring (and my taste
in TV shows has gone down the drain). How long before
I’m sitting home every Saturday night stroking the
cat and knitting a blanket or a sweater?
However, I spoke to one of
my co-workers who also went on the Portland trip and
she went to sleep at 9 every night. So maybe I’m not as
lame as I think. After all, there is a three hour time
difference between New York and Portland.
Additionally, with two small kids waking up at 6 am
every day, how could I not be tired all the time?
I’ve covered this topic
before of getting old (and my body falling apart). But
the boring aspect is what’s really irking me. Though
my kids missed me a great deal when I was away in
Portland, they’d still rather watch polka on
TV—not a cartoon, mind you—with my wife’s
parents than spend time with me. In addition, my wife
would rather spend a Saturday night watching Dateline,
20/20, any show on the Food Network or HGTV, a
Seinfeld rerun, a Nick at Nite marathon, the
news—shall I continue?— or just go to sleep. Heck,
I don’t even want to hang out with me on a Saturday
night.
I then became a
full-fledged middle-aged bore when my daughter, Lexy,
turned to me one day and said, “Daddy, can we see
the Hannah Montana movie?”
My daughter, not even six,
looked at me as if to say I’m not asking, I’m
telling. However,
the day she wanted to go was Super Bowl Sunday and
I’m a huge football fan.
I then did what any self-respecting man would do.
“4 tickets for Hannah Montana,
please. And 4 pairs of 3-d glasses.” I coughed up
the $15 a ticket, checked my manhood at the door, and
put on my 3-d glasses.
But there is hope for me
yet. Contrary to popular belief, my spine is still
intact and, more importantly, spring is here which
means it’s time to come out of hibernation and do
fun things again. It’s time for riding bikes with my
daughter, playing basketball with my son, and running
at the park. No more boring Brad. It’s also baseball
season and time to hang out with the guys at the
ballpark, scream like a 12-year-old at anyone wearing
an opposing team’s jersey, and drink a few beers.
Actually, no more than 2 beers, otherwise, I’ll get
sleepy. All may not be completely right in the
universe again, but it’s a start.
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