oh, baby

i know what you're thinking. and you're wrong. heehee.

yesterday was my deadline day for year-end reports, w2s, and all ugly things tax-related. so, after about 4 hours of sleep and 9 hours of stressful work day, the law student and i had dinner. my highly dramatized drinking-binge consisted of one beer, sipped slowly. to more completely round out my meal and my day, i needed ice cream, so we drove over to the gas station that has a little freezer full of bluebell pints.

i spent what is possibly too long picking out flavors and ended up in line behind 3 young frat boys, all who can grow more facial hair than my 30-year-old husband, who were all buying cigarettes. as the last one was carded, the clerk asked for his birthday.

"twelve eleven ninety-one."

what?

i asked the cashier to be sure i heard him correctly. i had.

i still think of myself as college-age. insert denial here. hearing that kid's birthday, coupled with the 3 gray hairs i had yanked out earlier that morning, was just another rude reminder that i am, in fact, NOT, no matter how young i look or feel.

thanks, life.

p.s. to the scruffy dude with glasses and mismatched clothes who didn't hold the door open for me? you're rude and your clothes are ugly and you need to shave.