It's always been my theory that angry, depressed people live forever, perhaps as some type of punishment or perhaps because they have it figured out. Look at Dorothy Parker (love her!!). She was miserable, spoke her mind, made enemies, drank too much, smoked too much, and was a genius! I hope I'm not missing something in this equation or I've been wasting time being miserable.
It's like vampires (which I will not talk about here or probably anywhere. I love them, but they are overexposed). What I will say is, I always wanted to be one and live forever. My father and I have a pact that whoever gets turned first must immediately find the other and turn them as well. We then have a list of people who have asked us to "do them" as well or leave them the hell alone. Anyway, yelling "Louis come get me!" into the night sky hasn't yielded any results so I must find alternate means.
Which brings me to the cranky and miserable. It's always miserable old people. I'm sure I've met some fun, happy members of the elderly community, but they had nothing on their vintage cousins. Remember that Monty Python skit with the granny gang? (No, you say? SHAME!) In it, a frail old lady would wait to cross the street and when a nice young man came to help her, her equally old friends would run out from their hiding spots and beat him senseless, stealing his wallet. I loved it. My sister says I'll be the leader of a granny gang when I'm older and I couldn't be more tickled. Applications for membership welcome.
With all the thought I've put into this, I could have probably figured out tons of ways to live happily and reach all my goals! I'm keeping my fingers crossed. The only thing left is to grow old and see what happens. I've got the vices down pat!
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