dude, where's my walker?
one of my nicey roommates, who just turned 23 not long ago, just got on his first chicago longform improv team at the playground. after a meet and greet, he came home. i cheerily asked how it went. he got through the generals, then said one dude is really old. he's like, 30.
34, i mean, 34 - he stammered, as if it would make this better.
i shot him the meanest look ever.
your 3 other roommates are all 29 and 30, friend, i say.
yeah, but you don't act old, he said.
oh my god.
34 is young! good god, why did this conversation happen?
2 or 3 years from now, he'll look back on this and laugh. man, if i wasn't so tired from eating dinner at 3:30, i'd go in the next room and punch him in the neck. ah well- my teeth are out for the night, so why bother?
[name withheld to protect the guilty.]
posted by tara d. @ 12:25 AM
4 Comments:
One of the unfortunate things about getting older (I just turned 28) is coming to the grim realization that, in a few years, people who didn't know me then won't believe I was like this when I was 16 and 20 and 25, too.
Well, that and the inevitable hair loss.
you are bald as an eagle.
in addition, i don't think anyone is old until they wear a shirt that reads "oldy". when they think it, i'll think it.
seriously, i don't think it until like, mid-eighties.
80 is the new 21!
some one asked me how old i was the other day...
i say 30
they say, in a shocked and awed kind of way, "oh.... you don't seem that old"
f you lady
ps. chrissy, secrets out we still play made up games, try and sing all convos for the day, make videos and have dance parties on friday night - alone or not -
old schmold
Speak up, dearie!
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