The Yearbook Office
Writings on staying alive
 

5 WAYS YOUR LIFE IS, LIKE, COMPLETELY DIFFERENT IN YOUR 40S

It’s 2015, and according to a recent study in Statistics Are For Assholes Quarterly, more people are in their 40s now than ever before! And while in the past, being in your 40s meant that James T. Mortality was seconds away from filling your body with the ashen taste of not being alive, today it means exactly the opposite.

According to this same startlingly inaccurate study, if you’ve made it to your 40s, you are NEVER GOING TO GET ANY OLDER OR DEADER. To heck with 40 being the new 30! 40 is the new GODLESS IMMORTAL, FEEDING ON THE SOULS OF THE YOUNG AND THE OCCASIONAL WAFFLE.

But boring ol’ infinite life aside, how else is your 40s different from, say, your 20s? Or your 3s? Or being a blender? Well, for one thing, nobody is going to attempt to make a gazpacho inside of you. Unless that’s your deal. And all parties are consenting, amenable, and patient.

Although there are un-literally a kabillion-squajillion ways your life is different in your 40s, we’re going to narrow that down to however many I feel like gazpacho-ing out. Five, probably. So kick back in your favorite easy listening chair, pop open a thick can of flavorless vitamin slurry, and join us as we uncover the wonders of making it to your fourth amazing decade on this stupid garbage planet.

1. THE YOUNG PEOPLE WILL NOT MAKE ANY SENSE TO YOU

The Young People. With their “hats” and their “emotioncons” and their “farm-to-table stealth murder drones that follow me everywhere, I just know it.” The Young People have been a mystery to those of us in our 40s for as long as I’ve been writing this sentence. But why is that? Didn’t we ourselves used to be The Young People? Didn’t we used to ride about our town centers on our skatingboards, entreating people to not have cows?

The simple fact is that you were never actually The Young People. As we all know full well, humans are born the age that they’re going to be forever, and just stay that way. So, let’s say you’re 42 years old. When you were born, you were already 42 years old, and your parents kept you locked in the basement until you could walk, talk and make polite conversation about things that are not your butt.

Sure, there may be photo albums with pictures of what your parents claim to be younger versions of you, but they are liars, jealous of your immortality and thick cans of vitamin slurry. So OF COURSE The Young People won’t make sense to you! You were born a The Gross Old People With Gross OldBrain, and they were born with charisma, good looks, their own secret nonsense language, and the uncanny ability to recall every character from Doug.

But don’t take my word for it. We transcribed this conversation between a The Old People and a The Young People for your reading pleasure.

A THE OLD PEOPLE: Good morrow to you, a The Young People, how do you find it to be going?

A THE YOUNG PEOPLE: POP PIP PING PANG PONG PATTI MAYONNAISE

A THE OLD PEOPLE: Be gone, The Actual Devil! You will no longer use this A The Young Person as a vessel for your wicked ways!

A THE YOUNG PEOPLE: FLOOP FLAP BING BANG BONG BEEBE BLUFF

A THE OLD PEOPLE: Curses! This bedeviling is insidious!

And SCENE! Or for you The Young People out there: Moo SLEECH!

2. EVERYTHING HURTS ALL THE TIME ALWAYS

You may notice as you get older, or rather, continue to be the same age you’ve always been since birth, you are racked with indefinable aches and pains. Why is this? It’s not because the cruddy excuse for a meat-suit you call your corporeal being is rotting into putrid nothingness as we speak, because I ALREADY SAID PEOPLE IN THEIR 40S ARE IMMORTAL, AND WHEN I SAY SOMETHING IN MY BIG DUMB THE OLD PEOPLE VOICE IT’S TRUE, OKAY? LEAVE ME ALONE!

So if it’s not the dull, throbbing pain of encroaching death gently tickling our spines with a meat tenderizing mallet, why does getting out of a chair take 45 excruciating minutes? Why do we wake up feeling like our muscles have been swapped out with rabid ocelots? In short, what the fuck?

Here is what’s the fuck: As you sleep at night, everyone you have ever wronged sneaks into your bedroom and beats you with a sock full of soap. Therefore, the pain you’re in when you first wake up is directly proportionate to how many people you’ve wronged. And the longer you’ve been on this planet, the more people you’ve wronged, and therefore, the more pain you will wake up in the next morning.

If you’re me, for example, you’re basically a really terrible human being who spreads ill-will around this stupid garbage planet in the same manner Johnny Appleseed spread around whatever he spread around. I think it was tacos.

As a result of being an inhuman monster, I wake up every morning feeling like every single one of my bones has been taken out, dipped in lemon juice, and put in backwards. But this is not the case, of course; it’s just literally hundreds of people filing in and out of my bedroom, beating me with socks full of soap. And not, like, hotel bars of soap or anything like that. Big, whacking bricks of Lever 2000. It’s painful, sure, but the good news is that I’m going to live forever, and I genuinely love making the world the worst place possible. It’s my jam!

3. EVERYTHING YOU READ, YOU BELIEVE TO BE TRUE

Including, but not limited to: Fox News, lists on Facebook, jokes on Twitter, studies in Statistics Are For Assholes Quarterly, The Bible, The Celestine Prophecy, and this post.

4. YOU GET AN ODD GREEN ENVELOPE IN THE MAIL

You’re just minding your own business one day when the mail carrier knocks on your door. Which is weird, because they usually just cram all of the mail in the mailbox, along with a note saying, “See you tonight, I’m bringing an extra-big sock, you no-holiday-tip giving inhuman monster.”

But you realize that it’s not your regular mail-carrier at the door, it’s a representative from The U.S. Department Of Immortality, here to give you an odd green envelope, cold to the touch. You smile, because you know what’s in the envelope already. It’s your invitation to The Very Special Immortality Indoctrination Event.

You tear it open, and plug the address of your local Immortality Indoctrination Center into your phone. It’s so close by! No time to get changed, you want to get there as quickly as possible! After all, THIS IS YOUR BIG DAY!

As you run towards the red pin on your phone, you realize that the I.I.C. isn’t the gold-plated building you read about in your parents' basement all of those years ago. It looks like an old gas station, broken-down and neglected. No matter, you think to yourself, they must have to disguise it so The Young People don’t get in there and take your fabulous cash and prizes, and learn all the secrets of being part of The Forever Ones.

You cautiously walk into the I.I.C., tripping over rusty crankshafts and almost slipping in a congealed pool of motor oil.

“Hello,” you call out, your unsure voice bouncing off the walls. That’s when the light comes on. It’s bright. Bright and warm. Hot even. Very, very hot.

You are concerned that it might be a little TOO bright and hot in there, and you’re also concerned that you can no longer see or hear. But no matter! AGAIN, THIS IS YOUR BIG DAY!

Before you can assemble one more thought in your Gross OldBrain, you are a pile of ash on the ground. You are summarily turned into bars of soap, which then gets put into socks, which is then used to beat awful people while they sleep, tenderizing their horrible bodies for their “Indoctrination”. The circle continues for all eternity.

5. YOU HAVE TROUBLE OPENING PACKAGES

It’s a pack of disposable razors, for Christ's sake! How protected do they need to be? And don’t get me started on cereal boxes. It takes me twenty minutes to get into my goddamn bran flakes! And I haven’t even had my coffee yet! But you tell The Young People about it, and they just start babbling nonsense language you can’t make heads or tails of. And who the hell is Principal Buttsavitch? That was actually a character on a children’s cartoon?

Jesus, this goddamn world. Thank God you’ll be ash soap soon.