You Know You're Getting Old When...

James and I had a date night last night. Woo-hoo out on the town in Clarksville, Tennessee! We went to the movies and saw Insidious (which I do not recommend at all, save your money). We should have known better than to go see a movie on its opening night, on military payday and on a Friday. The theater was packed. There were teenagers everywhere. The stars were aligned for an awful experience.

Through out the whole movie, we sat beside the world's most annoying man. He screamed and talked the entire time. James actually thanked him for ruining the movie for him as the credits were rolling. I think the movie would have ruined itself but it's always nice to point fingers. This guy irritated James enough that he actually went to find a manager to complain that this guy wasn't removed from the theater by the morbidly obese police officer with the giant dip in his lip that was standing at the front of the theater the whole time.

While James was complaining, I exited stage right to the ladies room. Upon entering the loosely coined "ladies" room, I had flashbacks to the club. There were half dressed teenaged girls all inspecting their cleavage and butts in the mirrors and taking camera phone pictures of their faces all squished together in the most provocative poses they could muster. I tried not to stare. I tried not to make disgusted faces. I made my ladies room experience short.

I can't really justify it, but I was incredibly annoyed with those teenage girls. And for no reason other than I'm getting old. It's true. My boyfriend was complaining about noise and teenaged girls irritated me just by simply existing. Sigh. When did we become so old?

Me & James