verb; murtaugh; murtaughed.
1. the actions of a person who is getting to old for this shit : I just found some of last night’s vomit in my favourite hand-crotcheted bag. I really need to stop murtaughing.
1. the state of exhaustion, resentment and regret that follows a period of one participating in shit that one is getting too old for : I won’t be making it to work today, I’m totally murtaughed.
Lately I have discovered a profound affinity with Roger Murtaugh. I am, it would seem, getting too old for this shit. It’s not that I don’t still enjoy the back-to-back drinking sessions, social chain-smoking and serial episodes of drunken lust that most people work out of their systems in their early twenties; it’s more a case of how painful the recovery is becoming. And while I do still quite enjoy a late night sojourn for the purchase of several small bottle of spirits which are then smuggled into a dive bar and consumed without concealment in the ladies’ bathroom, it seems that I have reached an age where the ensuing 48 hours of punishment far outweighs the crime.
Outlined below are some things that I have done in the last 12 months that exemplify the kind of shit that I am getting too old for. Please note that none of these examples have been doctored or exaggerated in any way. (Sadly, they did not need to be.)
Drinking a ‘Bus Cocktail’ (every kind of alcohol found in my house served shaken, not stirred in a plastic drink bottle) on the way in to the city: Getting too old for this shit.
Uttering the question “Where did you throw my underpants?”: Getting too old for this shit.
Waking up early, commencing a morning of rigorous exercise then consuming a hearty breakfast before realising I am still very, very drunk: Getting too old for this shit.
Waking up at 6am propped into a sitting position in my bed with an uneaten kebab resting on my boobs while an episode of 30 Rock blares from my TV: Getting too old for this shit.
Eating aforementioned kebab and sleeping until 3pm: Getting too old for this shit.
Sending texts that end in an ellipsis and a winky face: Getting too old for this shit.
Pushing my way onto the dance floor of a seedy King St bar full of under 20’s on a Tuesday night and blindly pashing a stranger: Getting too old for this shit.
Sprinting with my housemate to catch the last bus home because we had to go to Maccas first even though we already ate a whole pizza earlier that night: Getting too old for this shit.
Performing a Salt ‘n’ Pepa song at karaoke: Getting too old for this shit.
Glancing over in the morning and wondering if he said his name was ‘Ben,’ or ‘Tim’: Getting too old for this shit.
Having a conversation with myself while sitting on the toilet, falling asleep, waking up and wondering why there are pins and needles in my feet: Getting too old for this shit.
Telling a stranger in the bathroom that the guy she is crying over is a total sweaty dick hole and she can do waaaaaay better cos he’s a sweaty dick hole: Getting too old for this shit.
Crying in the street because it’s too far to walk: Getting too old for this shit.
Skipping gleefully into McDonalds at 6am after a 3 hour stint in emergency, brandishing my hospital wristband and asking if I get anything for free before ordering 10 hash browns and offering one to the girl behind the counter: Getting too old for this shit.
Hijacking a busker in Swanston St and forcing him to play the chords to a song I wrote, then forgetting the lyrics: Getting too old for this shit.
Being told by the smug spokesdude of a group of bearded hipsters that they “don’t talk to wine drinkers”: Getting too old for this shit.
Well…I’m sure you see my point. it. As my 28th birthday looms a mere month away it seems it really is time to let go of my youth. Turns out I just can’t pull of shame, humiliation and regret like I used to – particularly with my colouring.