Ah, the painful humor of seeing yourself mirrored in comic splendor. My husband loves the comic strip â€œZits.â€ (As per â€œGoogleâ€ –Created by Jerry Scott and Jim Borgman, Zits is about the life of Jeremy Duncan, a 15-year-old aspiring rock musician.) Iâ€™m not sure if he loves it because Jeremyâ€™s father is in dentistry, or because he secretly relates to Jeremyâ€™s rather, um, interesting views on life, love, and work.
My husband recently handed me a Zits calendar page and I groaned in recognition. In that dayâ€™s comic, Jeremy was attempting to help his tech-challenged father sign up for an online social media site. When he tells his father to enter his birthdate from the drop down menu you (the reader) see thisâ€”Scroll, scroll, scroll, scroll, scrollâ€¦
I have soooooo been there! And while those scroll down menus are supposed to be a quick and useful tool, they feel more than a little insulting. Like Jeremyâ€™s father, nowadays the scrolling takes forever to reach my birth year. Itâ€™s almost to the point that I expect to see cobwebbed Roman Numerals pop up for any date pre-1980. My husband says heâ€™s just grateful they still put his birth year out there, as though anyone that old would surely not have the strength or mental acuity to use a computer. The â€œold man droolâ€ alone would surely destroy a keyboard.
Technology grumping aside, my husband and I had a good chuckle about this thing called aging, and our solid membership within that scroll, scroll, scroll demographic.
Change is good, but I still feel experience better. Laughing at myself? The best part of my day.
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