Do you remember that stupid game your teachers made you play when you were a kid, where the teacher tells one kid a secret and then you had to tell the next person the thing they said? At the end, the last person would try to say the thing that the first person said, and it was totally different? What was the point of that stupid game? Oh yeah, that you should never trust anyone with a secret and gossip is toxic. What they refused to tell you was that you should never talk to people because people are so bad at interpreting what you are trying to say. Communication is better done non-verbally. Like staring daggers into people souls for talking to you. Or putting both your hands over your face and sighing heavily. Or heavy eyerolls. Those facial expressions speak thousands of words way faster and save valuable voice strength.

The other lesson you can take from the gossip game is never get in the middle of things. Unless you are one of those insane “extroverts”, “famous people”, “sports agents” or “hostage negotiators”, there is never a good reason to get in the middle of people. My least favorite thing in the world is when someone asks me to ask someone else something. Like when a girl asks me to ask my friend if he likes her. Or if my friend asks me to ask this other friend why they are mad at them. I will deliberately sabotage that immediately, so they learn to never make the middleman.

Do you know the least desirable seat in all of planedom? It’s not the window seat, and it’s not the aisle. I’ll give you one guess and a tiny hint. IT’S THE MIDDLE.

Do you want to know which school is everyone’s least favorite school of all time? It’s not elementary, and it’s not college and it’s not high school. That’s leaves…you guessed it…MIDDLE SCHOOL. DO NOT for love of all that is good and holy, ever put Baby in the corner, or Bitter Ben in the middle.

Here’s one more example to pummel you over the head with, before I finally get to my point. Of all the ages there are, which do people constantly talk about as their least favorite? Is it being young? Is it old? Or is it being middle-aged? There is no such thing as a young-aged crisis. And old people either love retirement or can’t remember anything, so being old is a dream. Being middle age sucks. There are crises all the time. And no one cares about you, or wants to know what you think. Young people think you are old and old people think you are young. Basically middle age is just like being stuck on an elevator, where you’ve already gone past the bottom floor and you’re not allowed to go to the top floor yet. You’re stuck there forever, until Batman or John Mclane rescues you and brings you to the retirement floor.

Do you know why being middle aged is the worst for me? Many people will talk about the crisis part where they feel like they need to buy a sports car or move to a remote mountain location and become a monk or question what their life is about around the age of 50, which I’m about a half a lap from.

The real reason why being middle aged sucks is because you are in the middle of two generations that always need your help. Not only that, but you are doing your best to create enough money, so you can become one of those generations that can actually retire.

Right now, I have a 14, almost 15-year-old that requires a steady flow of income. He wants food ALL THE TIME but thinks that we don’t have any at home. Despite us not being able to shut the fridge, or the pantry doors. And since my wife and I don’t really eat that much, it seems like this world of food is at the master’s feet. All he has to do is use those massive feet of his and come downstairs, and put something in a microwave, into a toaster, or use a knife to spread something on something else. Or if he must, boil some water and then wait 10 minutes for the water to spill over, make a mess and then eat it while leaving remnants of it everywhere.

When he isn’t insisting that we go get some inflationary costing fast food, he has other monetary demands like playing football for his high school team, which costs the equivalent of season tickets for an NFL football team. Despite the fact that we bankroll his football playing, we still have to pay to get into the games, pay for food for their weekly banquets, and have to work the concessions while missing his games. Luckily, they pay for cleats and kneepads. Oh, wait, no they don’t. But don’t worry, he’s paid us back by getting injured and having to buy him a shoulder pad, so you know, it’s all been worth it.

Don’t worry, he doesn’t want much for Christmas. Just a new snowboard, a ski pass, and a jacket, oh and a new phone. That’s fine. Inflation isn’t eating us alive. Oh, and we have a daughter in college. So you know, money.

Then there is the generation above me. Yes, they did take care of me when I was younger, but they forgot that I would have to pay them back when they got older. They tell me all about the weekly funerals they attend and every medical issue they have, so I get a nice peek at what my future looks like, because of all the diseases I’ve inherited. And spending time with them means slowing your runs to walks and walks down to crawls. You have to eat meals at tables, instead of sitting around the TV, and having to slowly chew your food to enjoy it. Who has time to chew and enjoy taste when you are frantically trying to relax on the couch and video games to play?

The worst part is that you have to be in the middle of these people, while still handling a career of some sort. No wonder people have mid-life crises.

When I say nobody put Baby Bitter Ben in the middle, I mean nobody but my family. Two generations of them. The nightmare scenario for a guy that hates to be in the middle is now a reality. I’m stuck in this middle age suckery for years (anyone know when middle age ends?) and my vision is so impaired that I can’t see the end of it. My only hope is to blog about it and hope they read it and it shames them into leaving me alone. Let’s add some Bitter Friday Giftures to be even more persuasive…

Please help me…

I actually wish…

And I would pay a lot of money…

Especially when I’m stuck in the middle…

There is no room…

I’ll have to Curb My Enthusiasm…

No one was a big fan…

Even Malcolm…

Nobody puts Baby in the Corner…

Well, except for this kid…

And always asking me…

And paying all my money to bankroll an NFL team…

And making sure my parents…

And making sure…

So yeah, middle age is going swimmingly. I can’t wait until I’m so old that the kid that I’m making sandwiches for now, is making pudding for me. Until then, I’m stuck in this hellish loop of middle age, which seems like I’ve been in for an eternity. Sounds like I need to go buy my mid-life Lambo on credit and leave that bill for my kids’ inheritance.

ARRRGGGHHHHHHHH

Bitter Middle Aged Suckery Ben