I'm Too Old For This Stuff

It turns out that perhaps I'm not as hip and cool as I think I am. Do the kids say "hip" these days? Because I might be so uncool in fact, that I use words like "hip". Maybe I have hit the time in my life where the only use of "hip" that makes sense is when it is used in sentences such as: "I go in for my hip replacement surgery tomorrow" or "I have child bearing hips". In fact, I might be so far past cool that I am really an old lady standing on my front porch waving my crooked, arthritis ridden finger at the whipper snappers who drive too fast down my street.

You might be shaking your head in disbelief, wondering what possibly could have happened that I have now resigned myself to a lifetime of early bird specials. The events that occurred will chill you to the bone.

Da club happened.

Yes, you heard me right. I was up in da club. My hoochie outfit consisted of a classy dress of an appropriate length paired with sexy but sensible slingbacks. I thought I looked okay, like a married 29 year old who still likes to get dressed up, go out, and get her party on. Well, to quote John McCain - because let's face it, I am apparently close to his age - My friends,  I might as well have been wearing my house slippers. I should have walked into da club with cold cream on my face and curlers in my hair. 29 is the new 92 when trying to back that ass up to a bar with bartenders who call you ma'am. Or was it mom? I couldn't hear a conversation over all that racket they were playing. Honestly, music these days doesn't even have a melody.

But though an old lady I may be, I am nothing if not a trooper. I was determined to celebrate this bachelorette party with the gusto of a girl of 21. I balanced my vodka tonic on my walker and shook my artificial hips to the sound of profanity laced music (honestly, can this noise even be called music? In my day, you could understand the lyrics). Just as I was about to bust a move I collided with a couple engaged in what I believe the kids call grinding. I stared in horror and yelled at the young adults to get a room. I can't be sure, as my hearing isn't all that great, but I think I heard the young man inquire who let Grandma into da club. My heavens!

Can you believe that we partied like teenagers until the wee hour of 11:00? I would have stayed longer as I was just getting my groove back, but it turns out that we can't drink like we could in the good old days. On top of that, some hooligan stole an iPhone from one of the jacket pockets in our party. He probably figured that we were too old to use such a new fangled device, and saved us the humiliation of attempting to join the young world of technology. What a nice young man.

I awoke with creaking bones but hey, any day I wake up above ground is a good day. I folded myself into my rocker, covered myself with my knitted afghan, and dozed off with dreams of da club.