It’s probably absurd comparing myself to the weird uncle. You know, the guy who gets invited to all the family events, not because he’s fucking amazing to have around but because somebody (usually a mom) feels sorry for the poor bastard, even if he does make all the other family members feel uncomfortable. I guess I’m that guy now. Well, at least in the office, I am. Surrounded by young blood – absolutely the best people you can possibly meet with nary an ounce of meanness – I find myself desperately wanting to get jiggy with them like it’s 1998. It’s depressing being hella old.
No, not this guy!
I’m Uncle Joey on downers. Not funny.Now, I’m not exactly sure how accepting an office environment is of weird uncles. Realizing that I’m one has been sort of the easy part. Coming to terms with it will take longer I suppose, but only because the young folks in the office are super nice. They enable my delusions that allow me to believe I can still get down, get down, and move it all around with them a la BSB circa ‘96.
