whats my age again

apparently i'm not the only one who seems to be caught in this weird middle ground of going back and forth between feeling too old and too young. Society in general can't seem to grasp my age.

I'm 25. but i understand i look like a 12 year old boy. however, i'm relatively mature and well spoken in a lot of ways. and i have a pseudo real job. i drink a lot of coffee and vodka, but would be just as excited about an orange soda as i would a martini. My two favorite foods are Filet Mignon and hot dogs with cheese in the middle. i get it. i'm sending a lot of mixed signals into the universe.

last week i walked into my midtown Manhattan office building, greeted our maintenance guy/super/landlord?/sometimes doorman, Oscar, as I do every morning. As i walked to hit the elevator button, Oscar said "I'm going up. Would you like me to take you up in the maintenance elevator?!?" as if i was 8 years old and this would be new and exciting and fun. it is only about 2 feet closer than the real elevator, and not at all faster-- so there's no real practical reason why i would want to ride in it ever. but... of course i said yes. because he was right. i'm an 8 year old child and the maintenance elevator was new and exciting and fun.

i accidentally typed 'envelop' instead of 'elevator' when writing that story. weird.

Also last week, a 57-year-old patient was waiting for his appointment, and i was chatting with him a bit as do with all of our patients. or at least most. This particular 57-year-old is one of my favorites because he's so soft spoken and considerate and he's very dad-ish. not like my father in particular, but dad-ish in general. He casually asked me if i was going to any of the XXXXXXXXX shows this weekend (the name has been omitted to save me a little bit of pride. trying to hold on dearly to all that's left of it. it was a pop band. lets leave it at that). I said "i don't even know what that means." he said "XXXXXXXX. they're playing at webster hall. i'm trying to get tickets on craigslist." webster hall. he must be talking about a band and not a play or a movie. i can continue the conversation with a little bit of grace. context clues. thanks 9th grade English! also, assuming since he's 57, me not going to the same concert as him probably isn't that big of a shocker. "i've never even heard of them." brace yourselves, folks. this is about to sting. the 57-year-old patient looks at me and says, "Oh... well... I guess you've probably been out of college for too long." excuse me!?!?! i've been out of school for 2 (quickly coming up on 3) years and i know less about pop music than my 57-year-old dad of a patient. shit.fuck.damn.balls. He then said "if you have some headphones i have their album on my blackberry if you'd like to listen to it. i think you'd like them." yes. i did have headphones. yes. i did like them. and actually i had heard of the some of their songs, just didn't know the name of the band. i don't know if that's better or worse. gross.

this has nothing to do with my age, but probably more my IQ. Classy moment of the weekend. I got all dressed up on saturday to see a play with jared (we ended up playing catch phrase instead...). I was making ramen noodes for dinner, so classy points start adding up already, and when i went to get it out of the microwave, the bowl was SUPER hot. I couldn't find a kitchen towel, and we are out of paper towel, so naturally, i use my skirt to pick up the bowl. Don't worry, i'm wearing leggings. i'm a fool, but not a slut. As i'm carrying it to the counter, i start YELLING cus its soooo hot and burning my hand thru my thin little skirt and say "OH SHIT i'm gonna drop it i'm gonna drop it i'm gonna drop it.." and as i put it on the counter i tip the bowl back toward my body and pour soup all over my dress. Roger and Jared gave me the ever so familiar "this is why we can't have nice things" look. Potholders. Potholders was the right answer.

alright. 7pm. time for me to get out of this 'ell 'ole.