Tomorrow’s my birthday, and I’m going to be all sorts of old. I don’t FEEL all sorts of old, but I’m like the kind of old where people will card me because they feel sorry for me, after I’ve given them that look that says, “Please for the love of God, card me – I’m not ready to give up my youth.” Perhaps some of you know the look I’m talking about.
It’s weird really, because I will meet people who I think are super mature and adult and the kind of people in general who you look at and think, “That person has their crap together” and then think, “Someday I too will be a full-fledged adult like that person” and then I find out that the person is YOUNGER THAN I AM.
This happens all the time.
Conversely, I also meet people who I’m absolutely sure are in my age group – you know, give or take 5 years – and I will want to befriend them and hang out with them, and then I will find out they are only talking to me because they they’re not old enough to drink and are hoping I will buy them liquor. I’m serious. That’s how warped my sense of self is.
One time, I was at a club in Vegas hanging with assorted people from my company, and the karaoke band started playing Prince’s “Let’s Go Crazy” and I was totally singing along and chair dancing to it. And one of the girls I was with, who I was absolutely sure was in my age group, looked at me and said, and I am not making this up, “Who sings this?” and I said, incredulously, “Prince – you know, from the Purple Rain soundtrack.” And she said, “Hmm. I’m not familiar with his work.”
That night, I checked myself for wrinkles, varicose veins and age spots.
The greatest example ever though – was with Dame herself. Dame is a wee bit younger than the rest of us mockers, but she’s one of those old souls who grew up with older sisters and therefore was subjected to 80′s pop culture and totally gets all the references. At lunch one day, I started talking about the good old days when I used to have gobs of people over to watch Melrose Place and we all collectively freaked out about that crazy scar on Marcia Cross’ head that no one saw coming – waaaay before she was on Desperate Housewives, and I turned to Dame to say, “Did you ever do that?” and she replied:
“I wasn’t allowed to watch Melrose Place. I was 11.”
That night, I took Geritol. There was no fighting it at that point.
Anyway, happy birthday to me! Expect slower posting tomorrow, as several of us mockers are taking the afternoon off to celebrate the birth of me. A really long time ago.
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