HA HA HA EVERY TIME MY HUSBAND FARTS MY SON LOOKS AT HIM AND SAYS EWWWWWW. HA! ITS GREAT.
Yesterday we were going to lunch with one of our suppliers at work to celebrate my moms birthday. She had my two nieces and their friend with them who are all between the ages of 13-15. I found my self crossed between embarrassed for them and embarrassed for me because I was once like them.
First! The makeup. One of the girls was already at my work when the other one got dropped off. Seriously faster then I could click send on my email they were locked in the bathroom glopping thick layers of black eye makeup on and gallons of shiny goopy lip gloss. It is extra amusing though because they still really have no clue about makeup so they do that thing where they use a BLACK! liner pencil and line the tops. AND. Bottoms of their eyes and then they smudge the top so they have that ultra sexy just got out of the pool runny raccoon eyes look that all the EMO boys find soooooo hot. This is the first time I realize just how old I'm getting. I realize this because the first words out of my mouth are, "Why do you need all that crap on your face? Wipe the crap off, you guys look weird!" Yeah, just call me grandma.
Then! I bring out Brandons new favorite CD which has that song from Madagascar, I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT and put it on the stereo. They immediately start dancing like they are at a techno club and closing their eyes and getting meaningful dance faces and ultra concentration looks on their faces. They are swirling their hands in the air and tilting their head to the side and trying with all their might to show off to the three older people in the room that they do in fact know how to dance REALLY! COOL!
Next! We all get into the car to go to Olive Garden and the three of them spend the whole car ride like this. "WHISPER WHISPER WHISPER WHISPER" The extra best part about this is that the two sisters have a total of like 43 brothers and sisters. (Really I think there is 8 kids total) so they spend a lot of time talking shit about each other. I am actually very close with them because there was a period in their lives where they came and lived with my family and we helped raise them. Soooo. When I hear one of them telling me what a terrible bitch Sally is and how she sooo did this with this one guy and it was way gross and how I would never do that I have to laugh when I later have her in the back of my car kissing Sally's ass so bad I'm sure that her underwear must be stuck to her skin from all the gloopy lip gloss. Then it gets better. When she is like Sally can you believe that Emily told everyone you did this with that guy (wait I swear like an hour ago you were in my office and YOU were telling me that story not Emily. Ahhhhh the days of shit talking and ass kissing little kids.
Afterthat! We arrive at Olive Garden. First! they all three had to order the same drink (shirley temple) and then they ALL THREE just had to run off to pee together. Then they alllll had to order the exact same thing and then two of them made the other one feel bad because she actually finished her food and didn't just take a few dainty bites and declare that SHEWASSOFULL and might pop this very second.
But! Finally!! They are done with their meal declaring that the chicken tenders and fries were LIKE TOTALLY THE!BEST!EVER!DUDE!!! The little shits pull out their purses. The only purpose of a 15 year olds purse is to pack around pounds of makeup and their three dollars for buying more makeup at the mall, and of course their student ID and! THEIR BACKSEAT DRIVERS LICENSE!!! So they pull out their super hip American Eagle bags and dump loads of makeup on the table and! proceed to do each others makeup right there at the restaurant's table. As if this isn't mortifying enough for me they next pull out their FULL SIZE BRUSHES and begin to preen each other right there. There is hair flying and I'm going to vomit at the whole thought of it.
It was at this moment I realized it. I'm no longer hip! I want to shed a tear for my old high school dumb ass self. The one who was so confident in myself as long as I had my trusty GUESS purse strapped to my side at all times. The one who didn't care that my jeans were either four sizes to big or five sizes to small as long as they were a cool brand. The one who totally didn't understand that you don't wear skater shoes with sparkly dress up shirts. I am now a mom A.K.A. old fuddy duddy. I could feel the lameness swirling around me the way Tums swirl in my stomach when I eat something red.
Woe is me.
