Memories

Ohh, they grow up so fast. Why it seemed like only a year ago my daughter was nineteen-years-old and just a babe. A nasty babe who would willingly kill me over a song selection on the radio sure, but a babe nonetheless. Now, she’s receiving mail for seniors about, Medicare, retirement, guaranteed life insurance, funeral planning, bladder control solutions for dogs, and cashing in your IRAs to ensure your lousy-bratty kids get nothing. Admittedly that dog one baffles me. But now, since she’s so aged, the rest make sense. Well sort of.

Hang on a second!!! That was last year. She was nineteen! I don’t mean to be rude to these providers, (actually, I do), but these benefits are for senior citizens. Not seniors in high school! My daughter is twenty and has yet to find a full-time job, let alone retire from one. How the heck did she end up on these silly mailing lists?

Of the future

Some AI somewhere decided my daughter is of retirement age and started sending her all the needed, or unneeded as it were, pamphlets for ending your life gracefully. And it’s not only unsolicited crap. She just received the state senior citizen discount card. At twenty, she gets things cheaper than I can. It’s very frustrating.

Some may say this is a computer mistake. But no! We actually tried it. She put on her twenty-something fashions which showed a lot more skin than a father would normally like. Then went to a store, picked out some items, and walked to the register. She flashed her card, the clerk looked, shrugged, and gave her the discount.

They asked for my ID to buy beer, and I definitely look more than twenty-one. She gets senior discounts and I get pulled aside. How is this right?

Very Funny

Some of you will say, “Ha ha, what a funny computer glitch.” The rest of you won’t be saying it, but I know you’re thinking it. Agreed, it’s just a snafu. How does this happen? Everything is out there on the web. Her social media sites list her at twenty. The school records say she’s twenty. She even has a death unicorn on her webpage with a sign reading, “Hooray, I’m 20” Half of you are now wondering what a death unicorn is. All I can say is use your imagination and stop trying to drag me off topic. I can do that all by myself.

The funny part of all this, (in case you’re not laughing already), is the fact the great and powerful AI’s all over the world think six or seven. I don’t know how this happened either. The only thing I can guess is the fact I have a lazy eye. This shouldn’t even be on the internet, but I know it is. Maybe I should explain. I guess I could just let is go, but then some myth-busters program would start hounding me for the truth. They’ll probably want beer as well, and I can’t afford to buy for all them. Sure, the truth is out there, so I guess I’ll tell it you and avoid throwing my grocery budget into the toilet.

I’m too old for this crap

About five years ago, I developed a lazy eye. It was not fun at all. Imagine driving down the road and a tree literally jumps in front of your car. Then telling the arresting police person, “I’m sorry osifer. (hic) I was just driving along and that tree jumped out at me. I’m not as think as you drunk I am.”

Thing is, it really happened to me and actually quite often. The way it was explained to me is I was only using my dominant eye due to the lazy one being unreliable. This is how brains work. I bet you never expected a medical dissertation in this post. But, it’s just one of the things which make Mr. Ohh! the legend he is. Anyway, back to it.

So, I’m driving along without a care, using only my good eye. Then the lazy eye looking sideways notices a detail. It screams, “Hey look at this!!” I change dominant eyes and to me it looks truly like the tree moved. Kinda scary, but par for the course for a distinctive idiot such as myself. Story over, let’s continue. Well, I guess the story’s not actually over, over. That was just the lead up. I can say that’s over but… Ohh Crap! You know what I mean.

A big man in a little world

I went to the doctor and learned that lazy eye is very uncommon in adults. I was referred to a pediatric surgeon to fix it. I looked so out of place in that waiting room. There were dozens of parents with small children, and a bearded forty-plus man sitting by himself. I can’t imagine what they were thinking. Actually, I can and none of it’s good.

When the nurse came out to get me, she asked where the little one was. I had to tell her I was a pediatric patient. Would you like to know the kind of looks you get when you say things like that? She responded with, “Psychiatry is on the fourth floor. Check with them instead of here.” She said it nicely but I understood the underlying insult.

The office was worse. The chair was made for skinny butts and elevated to put the children’s eyes at doctor eye level. It was like sitting on a badly made barstool. Agreed, I’ve sat on such barstools before but at those times there was always alcohol involved to ease the discomfort. In this office there was nothing but embarrassment. And that’s not intoxicating at all.

I will admit the room was full of distracting toys and rubber ducks. While waiting for the surgeon, I was able to play for a bit. It was a little fun but it got old fast. Preschool toys just aren’t very stimulating. I would’ve started a campaign to make better toys for children, but that’s already been done and the results were miserable. Kids would rather play with the box than some of that crap. That’s the thing. There weren’t any boxes for me to play with in my cramped little high chair.

Something must be done

Now the doctor knew the situation. But even with this knowledge, she couldn’t help herself from talking like a preschool teacher. I often wonder if small children have the same hearing receptors as dogs, because everyone who deals with them talks in this super high squeaky voice. “Hello Mr. Ohh! You look so cute today. I’m Dr. Mosley, and I’m going to look at your eyes today. Won’t that be fun!” That woman seriously needed a vacation, a stiff drink, and about a week of listening to news radio. That should get her back to normal.

Anyway, to make a long story even longer, this doctor did the surgery and I was better. But wait there’s more. I had to go to two follow-up appointment and do it all over again, twice. It was horrible. Something has got to be done.

Remember, Preschool Syndrome is a disease. You can help! Send a shot of tequila to a preschool afflicted adult.

ACT NOW! World sanity depends on it!!