I've been to the year 2112

I wake up and groggily look around. Everyone is shouting and the blurs of dozens of colorful people dance around through my cataracts. Today is apparently my 118th birthday, making me the 3rd longest living person. Whoopie. I am attacked by children named Rosie, Jacob, Will, Lucy, Kate, Grace, Caleb, Landon, and Emily - or was it Emery? I must call them all by the wrong names because they look at me funny and run away. Faces from my past bombard me with flowers that make me sneeze, chocolates that my kids take away, and more stuffed animals than in all of FAO Shwartz. Why can't these people just leave me alone? The "Hey mom, you remember Candace Smith, right? You met her 30 years ago at a conference?"'s, and the "Oh Kelsey, 118 years and still going strong"'s, and - my personal favorite - the "You've got this girl, just 5 more years and you've got the prize!"'s are giving me a headache worse than all the meds pumped in to keep me living. I call for a nurse who wheels me to the bathroom. To my dismay, I seem to not be bathed for several days now - my two hairs sticking greasily up like Alfalfa - not to mention my lack of lipstick. I am apparently rocking the "natural" look in 2112... I am wheeled out of the bathroom and forced out to the balcony where my hordes of generic-named grandchildren have prepared an extremely boring concert that I can't even hear; what happened to the skill of projecting? Finally, I cannot take it any more... zzzzzzzz