Our dishwashers are eighteen years-old max. They both have tattoos everywhere, and they are in a band. They are constantly arguing which song is better than another song, which band is better than another band. That's all I ever did at that age too. Ah, youth. When I mentioned I was probably thirteen years-old when In Bloom came out, they both gasped.
Yes, thirteen, assholes. Then, they tried to pull a fast one on me. They put The Growlers on, not a nineties band by any means, but one which rules none the less. When I was like, "is this the Growlers?" again, looks of shock.
"YOU KNOW ABOUT THE GROWLERS?"
|Yeah, if the lead singer looks like this, I KNOW ABOUT THE BAND. OH Brooks...I'll give you hotsy.|
This is when I became annoyed and then subsequently stayed away from said dish station, as I was sure I was going to cause someone bodily harm by tossing something sharp their way.
As the evening wore on, I was finishing up my closing duties, and could hear the "kids" yelling and hollering in the back, over some of what I am sure was riveting dish-washing banter. I had to drop off a ton of plates back there, and could barely think straight because their mix of Skrillex, laughing and yelling was giving me a migraine/nightmare.
They were arguing about drinking games. Who can "kill it" at beer pong versus quarters, who drank Fireball Whiskey shots last weekend while playing King of Cups blah blah blah...
I took a slow stroll to the entrance to the "dish pit" (as it is so aptly named) and gave them a curious look. I said, "I have an AWESOME game for you guys to play." I could tell I had their attention because it was actually quiet for seven seconds before I said:
"Let's play... 'Who is the quietest dishwasher?' Have you played that one before?!???!"
I think it took a while to process, but as soon as it did I was quickly informed I was a "smartass" and to "shut-up." Then, I realized.
I am a smartass, but I'm also getting older. Back in the day I would of argued the virtues of one album against another, made mixed CDs to try to prove my point, go to as many concerts as possible, and made sure that I read Rolling Stone like it was gospel, and SPIN like it was well...I don't know what's higher than the gospel but I guess the Ten Commandments?
Regardless, I have become that lady. The lady on the bus who is annoyed by the noises kids make, the one who will go out of her way to not sit near them in restaurants, and don't even get me started on Hot Topic. I remember my mother telling me, "I'll wait out here, the music in there is unbearable." I thought, what a prude bitch.
|This is what I am hoping for in my old age.|
Now, I would rather eat a bag of glass than admit I have become like my mother in any way at all. But, I can no longer deal with shopping there (not that I really ever did, except for the occasional Smiths t-shirt), nor can I enter those cute little accessory stores, because I have stretched ears (like a BOSS goddammit) so, the point is moot.
It hit me extra hard when I when to Target to try on shoes the other day. My first question was not, "are these cute?" but "will my orthopedic inserts fit in here?" Please kill me. Love, Prude Bitch.