I despise getting old. Not only does time fly by more rapidly and the number of times I feel the need to piss each night increase, but the crankiness that used to at least pretend to hide deep inside me now dances and parades around on full display, as if it was having its own coming out party. It shows up when people with overflowing carts beat me to the self-checkout line at Target. It trumpets its horn whenever the 5’2″ workout warrior hogs three machines at once at the gym and won’t let me cut in. It shows up when any Drake song or the “Kars 4 Kids” jingle pop on my radio. And, yes, it definitely rears its ugly head when the cost of a movie ticket and a tub of popcorn is wasted on a big screen dud.

Yes, I am cranky. No, Hollywood doesn’t seem to care. Nobody cares!