The original hater Andy Rooney let out his farewell rant on 60 Minutes last night and he ended things the only way I’d expect him to end things: by telling his fans thank you, but get off his lawn! Andy’s farewell did give me a slight case of the sads on the inside, because when I reach the age when my chin starts to sag so much that it looks like a nutsack is growing from the bottom of my head (I can’t wait!) who will tell me that it’s okay to shake my fist at the clouds over my hatred of chocolate chip cookies (yes, Andy Rooney hates chocolate chip cookies) and wrist watches?
If I ever run into Andy at a restaurant after I’ve had brunch while he’s having dinner, I will go up to him, because I believe you truly haven’t lived until you’ve been blessed by his crusty old coot side-eye. I didn’t know gruffing with your eyes was a thing until I started watching Andy Rooney.
And my mom had to SUCIO up my final time with Andy by asking me over the phone, “Do you think he ever wears pants when he’s behind that desk? Old men don’t like wearing pants.” Who does?! We all do our best work when our genitals are rubbing up against the bottom of a desk.