Now With Ginkgo Biloba

Two posts ago, I think I promised you two “You know you’re getting old when…” moments.

Here they are.

Moment #1. 99 Cents Store on Sunset in Hollywood. I am standing in line between (a) members of a large family who have all used the same cart but are all paying for their items separately in several complicated transactions and (b) a young woman with bleached platinum spiky hair, black fingernail polish and a large ring through her nose*. The latter is, of course, on her cell phone.

Over the PA system, Annie Lennox's "Walkin' On Broken Glass" comes on. Young woman behind me shrieks into phone, "Oh my God, this is one of my favorite songs of all time! [singing into phone] Walkin' on walkin' on broken glass... Yeah, my mom totally raised me on this shit!"

Um, yeah. That’s what I was listening to when I was working my first job out of college. That made me want to curl up into a fetal position with a pint of Haagen-Dazs.

Moment #2. Sweet Dub is at work. He and a female coworker who is about his age are discussing a movie which is on the production schedule. It is a remake of Fame. Another coworker says, “What’s Fame?”

Sweet Dub and the female coworker look at each other. She says, “You know, Fame? Irene Cara? I’m gonna live forever, I’m gonna learn how to fly? You know, it was a TV show?”

Second coworker has no idea what they’re talking about. “How old are you?” Sweet Dub says.

“Twenty-seven,” the guy says.

Yeah. Haagen-Dazs, please.

*Sweet Dub tells me later that I am describing what is known as a suicide girl. Oh, you crazy kids!