11:17 am - June 25, 2007
What?! I INVENTED the hills!
So. Last night. I'm at Albertson's picking up some booze for a girly night with my friend Laura. I was pretty happy-- the Stella beer I wanted had been on sale, I felt like I'm finally starting to wake up... (The weekends have been pretty hectic, with Kyle working both jobs at hellacious intervals. We've been averaging about 2hrs of sleep at a time. Being tired seems a lot like being high. I stare at shiny things with greater frequency and fascination.)
I'm slack-jawed, definitely NOT drooling, thankyouverymuch, waiting to be rung up, staring at nothing (Look! A ceiling fan!), with my i.d. thrust out for the inevitable carding. The girl at the register looks to be about my age, late twenties or so... And then it happens.
*SQUEAL!!!* OH MY GAWWWWD! YOU'RE, LIKE, SO OOOOOLLLLLLLLLDDDDD!!!
(my daze starts to dissipate, confusion at conversation other than the requisite "My, it's hot outside, yes, it is, etc." begins)
*MORE SQUEALING* I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE SO OLD!
(I begin to look around for a hidden camera, maintaining fixed polite smile for what I am certain is a huge studio audience.)
*MORE SQUEALING* YOU'RE EVEN OOOOOLLLLLDDDER THAN MY OLDEST SISTER!!!
(People are starting to stare; I am beginning to feel like Methuselah. Also wondering if I've accidentally stumbled into some Twilight Zone/alcoholic Lord of the Flies episode.)
This went on for some time, her telling me how incredibly old I am, and how great it is that in a few months (DE's birthday spectacular! spectacular! is in the fall), I won't need to be carded at all... And me praying that the blasted swipey machine would hurry it's ass up with the *approved* light. I ended up skulking out of the store trying to hide the shame of my advanced age from the staring populace.
Why does this happen to me? This is not the first nor is it the fifth time this has happened, when total strangers feel the need to humiliate me at great volume. When I was a teenager, people would frequently find it acceptable to comment on my pimples, or "volcanoes of humiliation", as they later became known.
Why, world, Why?
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