You Don’t Know Nothin Bout This…

The events of the last few weeks have made me come to an awful realization. I’m old.

A couple of Fridays ago the new, blackish “Karate Kid” hit the theaters and I found myself longing for the days of Daniel-San and Mr. Miyagi somehow turning waxing a car and washing a deck into a win at the championships. I also caught myself saying something I promised myself I’d never say…cuz you know, only old people say crap like this,

“Yall youngins don’t know nothin’ bout this right here!”

That just about cemented it for me. I was talking to a co-worker and she’d never seen the first one, nor has she ever owned a cassette. Blessed be! She’s never had the chance to experience riding down the road jamming when all of a sudden your tape pops or you hit the eject button and the cassette body comes out but the tape stays inside the machine. Never had the experience of making a mix tape for your 2nd lunch period boo. Ahh…*pours one out for side B cuz I never had enough music to quite fill the second side*.

She asked, “What do you mean by stop tape?” and I got verbal diarrhea and said “Chile! You don’ t know nothin bout back in the day, do you?”. My blood ran cold for a second. Uncle Earnie’s favorite string of words on the dance floor reverberated through my brain. I just became the old people trying to do the “bus stop” but giving up in favor of doing a funky ass two step that we youngins don’t know anything about. Le sigh.

The feeling of old-dread came when the first ‘new’ “Transformers’ movie came out a while back. Like nooooooo, why is Hollywood destroying my youth like this!!? Before you know it they’ll be effing up  “Thundercats” , or be doing “Police Academy 18”, and heaven forbid they take “Jem” away from me. They already stole “G.I. Joe” and I hear something about some Smurfs coming to a theater near me soon. *Please hand me a church fan. I need some air*

I used to always be the baby everywhere I went. I was the youngest all through grade school, high school, and most of undergrad (until that weird kid who graduated high school at age 12 showed up). Now I’m one of the crowd, no longer using fake ID but instead hoping the bartender tells me how young I look for my age. I’m a distinguished *mumbles age*, right?? Right, dammit agree with me somebody! I’m schooling youngins on the way of the Skip-It and teaching chicks how to turn double dutch without being called out for being double handed.

“Double Dutch? You mean on the Wii, right?”, I’ve been asked. Jesus be a jump rope or a clothesline so I can show my stuff. Right after I take my Tylenol Arthritis Extra Strength. I’m no longer interested in the club, but instead would rather stay at home and drink the alcohol I bought legally and dance around my living room cuz ‘you know how them young kids are’. I’m good friends with knit and crochet and I shake my head at what the young kids call fashion.

Gone are the days of rocking Cross Colors with two different colored socks on or wearing overalls with one strap hanging down. I guess next week at work I’ll be breaking down the debate of Etch-A-Sketch vs Magna Doodle.

I told my mom I’m getting old and she laughed and told me I’m just old in training. Whatever, those comfort walking shoes are starting to look awfully appealing.


3 thoughts on “You Don’t Know Nothin Bout This…

  1. It’s kind of crazy huh? Getting older. Especially with all of these remakes of movies. I know I need to support “black” actors but I like the original karate kid exactly the way it was.

  2. Ha. I know the feeling. I am now the person saying stuff like “whatchu know about *insert something from the 90’s here*?”. I feel like an oldie…but I am still a goodie.

  3. Oh, the clubs! They’re embarrasing to go to now, right? I mean, I still look pretty good but I always feel like they’re looking at me like I used to look at some of the “old heads” that would show up at the club; “Shouldn’t she be home with your kids?” or (heaven forbid) “Shouldn’t she be home with her grand-kids?” (Ugh! Remember that look?!)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s