Well that's it.
It's done.
I have officially become Over The Hill. The other day I went to the local public library to take out some books. (Yes, I know, just mentioning the words library and books pre-qualifies me for some sort of old fart award). As I fidgeted with the chunk of plastic that I gotta carry around in my wallet, looking for my library card, the young 20ish chick behind the counter piped up and said, “Boy, you sure have a lotta cards there don't you".
To which I replied (thinking I was one very clever bunny), “Yeah I know. I hate messin' with my Costanza wallet".
I got nothin'. A complete air ball. No smile. No snicker. I got the stare of complete indifference. And with a Seinfeld joke no less. Frankly, I would have preferred getting the stink eye. At least with that I would have known where I stood ... somewhere in the realm of suckage I'll admit, but the big nothing left me hanging out in the middle of nowhere.
I remember the days when Seinfeld small talk was a sure thing. Everyone knew what the fuck you were talking about. Standing around the water cooler was filled with yada yada this and master of my domain that, you couldn't get away from it. Those days are over. Now I'm gonna be relegated to using the generic stuff like: how it was when I had to spend hours walking to school or how fat your mom is.
At least you could return that massage chair.
ReplyDeleteAnd you can always Seinfeld small-talk with me.