I guess it's time to explain my phobia of old ladies...

I have mentioned this to a few people in the past and, of course, they always think I'm joking. But it's true. I am scared shitless of little old ladies.

First let me define. Old lady to me means over 70 years of age. Sometimes younger but rarely.

My reason is simple. Old ladies can be two extremes. First, they can be the nicest sweetest angels in the world. Or they can be the most bitter venom-spewing evil hags in the world.

Please before the sexist accusations fly... let me explain by a little compare and contrast.

Crabby old MEN are hilarious. Long a cliched character of the crusty old man who sits on his porch waving his cane and shouting at the rascal neighbor kids to get off his lawn.

But the evil old lady is more sinister. She lies dormant most of the time. Small and frail, wrapped in her shawl during those crispy August summer days. But once she strikes... all hell breaks loose. Setting off an old lady tantrum one can be subjected to a vicious tirade of scratching, clawing, profanity, lashes from strands of pearls, strangulation by way of hair netting, and handbag-induced head trauma.

All of this simply because Walgreen's ran out of her brand of calcium ... or something else so pathetically mundane.

I have tried to reason with them. But my words can't get past their reeking odor of Play-Doh.

So, now I avoid them. I will move to the other side of the street. I will move to the back of the bus. I will avoid that aisle in the grocery. All in an attempt to avoid the old ladies.

They are just fucking mean.

I miss you, grandma, but you can blame the others.

-Jonesy