Missing My Fake ID
We don't go out very often. That is a side effect of buying a house when you are twenty three and actually getting married at twenty two. You are poor and you learn to give up things. We are homebodies by nature and that helps. But also, we have found that we really enjoy when we go out now. If you eat out all the time then it gets old and it doesn't feel like a treat. If you go out once a month it feels really special.
People give us a lot of shit about that. Same thing with no vacations. And I know what they are saying. Especially since Gladys just died. Life is short and all of that. But I still have to plan on living for a very long time. And sometimes that means you can't have everything you want the second you want it. I think Gladys would be really pissed at the number of people using her death as an excuse to run up credit card debt.
Anyway, we went out and it was lovely. And we didn't go to a FANCY place but just a nice steakhouse. On a Sunday. But the hostess? She thought she was at an entirely different kind of place. A place where the obviously still in high school hostess would not look very odd in her cheap and ill fitting black suit, white shirt unbuttoned to her navel with a black bra underneath, a giant slit in the back of her skirt showing her garter belt.
Was it a fetish restaraunt? Come as your favorite version of Trashy Lingerie's slutty executive? I am not sure.
Yes, there was a table of guys really enjoying the view. Yes, it was a little creepy because man, they were a good ten years older than me. That girl can't vote yet quite trying to look up her skirt.
That being said I was a good wife and totally pointed out the view to my husband. That ought to reward him for my laptop right there.
It was pretty early for dinner and we got a very strange table. Right in between the bar and the regular dining room. It was especially weird because they were working two very different musical moods in there. The bar had the eighties hit "I've Got a Crush on You" (Sheena Easton? forgive me I am not looking it up) and the dining room "I Still Haven't Found (What I'm Looking For) by U2. Thanks to this place I now have both of those songs stuck in my head TOGETHER because I now know what they sound like.
At dinner we realized that we hit a sad sad day in dining. We are now older than the wait staff. Our waiter was trying to make conversation about the shirt J was wearing (Beastie Boys--which he stole from me asshole) and he was like their new album is totally kicking it old school. I am just saying that when the nineteen year old waiter at the Keg is using the slang it is no longer cool. In fact it is about ten years from being cool.
I took solace in the clearly had no idea we were old. We should have ordered wine so that they would have thought our id's were fake.
I totally miss using a fake id. It added that extra layer of excitement to buying beer. Now its like toilet paper, apples, bread and beer--a lot less romantic.
