MySpace Sucks, Facebook Rules

So, I’m at home on a Friday night, sober, and have little interest in tooling the town in search of entertainment or companionship. Perhaps it’s that little epiphany that has gotten me thinking about the fact that I’m getting old. I know there are people out there older so on and so on, my point is I’m starting to move into the old crowd. To illustrate my point, at times I’ll make the comment “I’m getting old.”
Then one of my friend's older than me will say...” Hmmph, you don’t even know what old is. You’re half my age.”
Yet here I am hanging out with your old ass. Seriously, I didn’t think I’d see the day when my dad has more Facebook friends than me. Now don’t think I’m ranting on, I’m ranting in jest, but the reality of the matter is interestingly humorous. I can remember when Facebook first came out, and you had to be a college student. Only certain universities were online with it, and it was very exclusive for those uninterested in the online orgy that is MySpace.
An interesting side note, spell-check recognizes MySpace, but not Facebook-wtf Microsoft?!?
Secondly, with regard to the age gap, I’m noticing that at my stage in life there tend to be two types of people; those who have moved on from adolescence and those who haven’t. It’s important to mention that this spirit tends to revive itself somewhere in the mid forties to mid fifties and by spirit; I mean the drive to get way too fucked up and make public spectacles of one’s self-not that I’m here to judge.
Okay, so why the hell am I writing all of this, we all get older right? Well no, some die early-some die way too early. But on the flip side, some live way too long-like old people who are on oxygen and smoke. How is this legal? I used to work in a certain buffet restaurant and just such a sweet old, life threatening lady would chose to dine there each Saturday afternoon. So I’m making $7 an hour thinking, I don't even have dental insurance, yet I feel like I need bomb squad gear to change out the mashed potatoes. I get harassed for texting at a gas pump, but live past 112 years old and it’s okay to wheel around as a human bomb.
Maybe you get more adventurous as you get older, like, “Aww Fuck it, if you’re not in the fast lane, you might as well get out of the way.” Eventually we’ll see al-Qaeda recruiting seniors and you won’t be able to get a rascal on a plane anywhere. Although, why is it seniors don’t take that adventurous spirit with them in the driver’s seat? We’ve all been there, you’re cruising through town 10 above the limit, la-de-da, windows down, Metallica rocking out on the radio and then you come up on a 1973 Buick doing 7 mph. Is it just me or is it every time you come up on a slow moving car in the left lane and you are ready to move over, a car is always next to you? Seriously, I'll be driving down the center lane, weaving like a sorority girl after a jagerbomb contest-no one in sight. The second I need to get over the fucking invisible man is there in a grand am. I secretly think old ladies are seeking people out and setting up insurance claims. I think this guy is clueless, turns out he's Evelyn's wing man.
But just once I’d love to be in the right lane, obeying the law-seat belt on, listening to talk radio and get blown by. And when I get to the next stop light, pissed off, ready to flip the perfect bird I have been practicing since grade school-and it’s a blue hair doing lines off the console and head banging to Poison.