So this past weekend, I walk into my preferred smoke shop to re-up on my kreteks of choice. They know me. I know them. We have an understanding. But it was later at night than I usually go, so I got carded by a newbie. As I wait for the cashier to compare the horrible driver’s license photo to what is standing (impatiently) before him, I notice that I’m being stared at by an odd looking character. The I.D. is handed back to me. I dig in my purse to pay Johnny-Come-Lately. Odd looking character speaks:
“Anyone ever tell you that you look like a young Claire Huxtable?”
I smile politely. Grab the cloves. Make a beeline for the door. I make it to the parking lot without having to allude to the imaginary boyfriend waiting out in the car. As I drive off I realize that it’s not so bad to be carded at my age AND be compared to one of the flyest TV moms ever. Classy, witty, beautiful, eloquent…
Yeah, I’m feelin’ that.
1 comment:
Sometimes I read your blog and it's scary how alike we are. I miss knowing you.
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