March 18, 2010

I am Old

My homegirl, Amanda, and I went to the John Mayer concert at Philips Area in Atlanta last night. Awesome. We had these box seats, which unknown to us had "first come first serve" status. Well, we had two great seats FIRST. We got up for a millisecond, and these spoiled rotten teenyboppers, in a group of five, with their horrific housewife of a mother took our seats NEXT.


The first question that comes to my mind is why teenyboppers are sitting in box seats. It took me thirty years to get into a box. And even then, it was only through Amanda. So technically, I have not "arrived." Secondly, since when do twelve-thirteen year old girls says things such as, "OMG, Mayer is so freakin' hot, isn't he, like, the hottest piece of man you've ever, like, seen?" Well, yes... he is, but I'm not sure that even I would say 'hottest piece of man' - something about that feels dirty.



The former Meredith (approximately five years ago) would have pulled the teenyboppers out of our seats by their hair. Instead, we opted for stair sitting. Which wasn't that bad (but I think totally blew out my back). I am old.

Finally, on the way back to the hotel, we ride up to the fourteenth floor with a group of girls celebrating a 21st birthday. In the spirit of being super-cool, I do the dreaded thing: "Oh how wonderful," I say, "Enjoy it girls - the next ten years flies by!" Smacking their gum, they kind of roll their eyes and me, scream something like "Party!" and walk on.

I am officially old. Maybe not in age, but in spirit. Where's my Jean Nate?

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