There’s No Age Limit on Stupid

I took my darling little tax deductions to lunch yesterday at our favorite Chinese buffet. It’s like eating the food equivalent of reading 50 Shades of Grey; you know you shouldn’t be consuming it, it’s really not healthy for you, but as long as no one witnesses your foodgasm you can walk away and pretend you didn’t just have your face in a bowl of lo mein the size of your head.

We actually got to have a whole lot of totally inappropriate fun at the restaurant because we were seated in a booth right next to two very loud girls who had an annoyingly vapid conversation about some guy driving a pickup truck. The conversation went on for about forty minutes, which is amazing because I wouldn’t have thought these two would have had the attention span to watch a full episode of Blue’s Clues, judging by their vocabulary. OF COURSE we had to play Mystery Science Theater 3000 with their dialogue, adding our own voice overs and commentary to their drama. Well, I had to play, while my 12-year-old hissed at me under her breath that I was being almost as loud as the two girls.

Thing 1: So, like, this guy was driving right up behind me and I could see him in my mirror and he was all, “What do you think you’re doing?”

ME: (Wow…you could hear him from your car?)

Thing 2: Gosh, that was so totally dangerous, making you have to look back. You could have totally wrecked. He’s such a jerk.

ME: (Yes, it is horrible when your fellow citizens feel the need to also drive on the same road as you.)

Thing 1: I knoooooow, right? So then he flies around me in the other lane…

ME: (You mean, the higher speed lane right next to you, since you indicated you were on the highway and there are four lanes?)

Thing 1 again: …and he gets right back in front of me and turns into this gas station. It was the SAME gas station I was gonna use!

ME: (Amazing…weird how more than one person who owns a car can use a gas station. What are the odds?)

Thing 2: OMG he could have been a stalker!

ME: (Yes, except for the fact that he got to the gas station first, so technically, it’s almost as if Thing 1 was HIS stalker.)

Thing 1: Crap, I never thought of him, like, stalking me. That makes it all even scarier. I might have to get a pertaining order!

ME: (Or a “restraining” order…that would work, too.)

Thing 2: It’s, like, we can’t even drive our own cars anymore. No one is safe. And you know Obama isn’t going to do, like, anything about it.

ME: (See, there’s this thing called jurisdiction…no wait, sweetie, don’t leave, I’ll spell it for you.)

Thing 1: So then, like, I was too afraid to get gas since the creep was still there, just standing outside his car and looking at me.

ME: (Did he happen to have the nozzle to the gas pump in his hand while he stood there?)

Thing 2: “gasp” What did you do?

Thing 1: I left! I took off and almost had a wreck trying to get away from him.

Me: (Look both ways next time.)

Thing 1 again: So then, since I didn’t get to buy gas and I still had to get to work, of course I ran out of gas and was late and my boss was all, “That’s no excuse,” and yelled at me.

Thing 2: Wow, what a jerk. He shouldn’t yell. He doesn’t know what you’ve been through…

ME: (Yes, the PTSD from being confused by another human being’s need to buy gas can be traumatic…wait, post-traumatic.)

Thing 1: I know, right? So I told him, “I don’t need this, you don’t know what I’ve been through,” and I quit. My dad said he would go down there and talk to the guy and make him give me my job back.

ME: (Even though you’re the one who quit…)

DAUGHTER: “Mom. You’re not being as quiet as you think you are! They can HEAR you!”

ME: Yes, sweetie, but their IQs are smaller than the cost of this lunch. They might be able to hear me but they will NEVER be able to understand me.

We got up to leave and I was, like, so totally prepared to have a talk with my daughters about NOT being that ridiculously stupid, especially in public where people can hear you AND blog about you, but when I turned around to retrieve my purse from the booth, I saw something that made me almost totally spew my Chinese food:


The sheer occurrence of “like,” “totally,” and “ya know” in the back-and-forth exchange the entire restaurant had to endure from these two was bad enough when I thought they weren’t old enough to vote, but the fact that these two could actually walk out that door and influence the election of our leaders made me want to vomit. I snatched my purse and held my children close as we ran away, fearful that stupid might be contentious. I mean, CONTAGIOUS. Oh crap, it’s starting…