April 07, 2004

Conversation III

Driving through the parking lot of the massive strip mall that is home to Target:

Me: You just missed that stop sign.

Boyfriend: Shit. Sorry.

Me: I don't think anyone noticed.

Me: Here's another one. You have to stop at this one--there's a grandma about to cross. It's a sin to run over somebody's grandma.

Boyfriend: What's she wearing?

Me: Holy crumb! She's totally wearing her housedress!

Me: [awestruck]

Me: It's got the pockets and everything! Look! It's a button-up! I only have, what, about 30 of those things at home? Her hair's all done, her makeup's on, she's got her tennis shoes on, and she's wearing her housedress to Target. This woman just became my personal hero.

Boyfriend: Don't get any ideas.

Me: I won't. You have to be somebody's grandma to pull that look off.

Boyfriend: Remember that the next time you want to wear yours all day long.

Posted by Ilyka at April 7, 2004 02:09 AM in navel gazing

You do NOT have housedresses. You're not old enough to wear a housedress.

Every time I stay at my mother's house, she asks me if I want to borrow one of hers. No. No. No. NO, I DO NOT WANT ONE, AND I DON'T WANT YOUR SPARE PAIR OF FUZZY SLIPPERS, EITHER.

Please tell me you're lyin' about that.

Posted by: Meryl Yourish at April 7, 2004 03:47 AM

I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

No, seriously. I'm sitting here and thinking to myself: "HEY....you ARE somebody's grandma."

That smarts. Off to find the hard liquor.

Posted by: Emma at April 7, 2004 05:03 AM

I say Grandma should rock on with her bad self. Me? I can't wait until the days I am pushing a grocery cart with pink spongy curlers in my hair, since, you know, I have to look nice when I sit around in my armchair later on and watch The Antique Roadshow.

It's a privilege, not a right, to wear a housecoat.

Posted by: Helen at April 7, 2004 09:30 PM

As long as you don't have the pantyhose hanging down over your knees,we'll all be okay I think.

Posted by: Dean Esmay at April 8, 2004 03:27 AM