I’ve been able to get in some babyless socializing and its been very nice. It’s also been sort of a wake up call. Today, Sheryl and I decided to be naughty schoolgirls and get lunch at the hot dog cart here on campus. My naughty schoolgirl sojurn ended when the hotdog lady asked me if Sheryl was my daughter.
I’m 41. Sheryl’s 40.
I am so getting a haircut this weekend.
5 comments:
dude--
I was so dressed inappropriately for my age. plus the pigtails. plus the fact that she couldn't see my eye wrinkles behind my dark shades.
I think this is way more a comment on my lack of dignity.
HEY! I thought I was your daughter! Was the hotdog cart lady the same crazy, chainsmoker that we saw at DeLuca's?
xo
You are ALL my daughters! Mike is my brother and Donovan is my grandson! AND I'm Amish!
I think that about covers all the things people have ever incorrectly accused me of being.
Can I be Amish? No wait -- can I be your Amish daughter who broke from the Amish fold and got all caught up with a bad, Meth-addicted crowd and lived in a trailer with her ex-Amish boyfriend and their three blond children until she found God and returned to the Amish community, in shame?
The best part about the two times I was mistaken for being Amish: the first time was when Mike and I were taking the bus to Phar Mor to buy condoms. The second time was when the bus driver of the 71C that I took to the Frick every Sunday tried to ask me out by reciting a poem he had written about about his exgirlfriend and how she should be proud to be a Native American. Then he asked me if I liked Chinese food and then he noticed I was wearing black nailpolish and he was shocked that Amish women were "allowed" to wear black nailpolish.
He actually gets a little more slack than that lady on the Phar Mor bus. Everytime he saw me I was wearing my white shirt and black skirt to work my docent job. How the Phar Mor lady thought Mike and I were Amish with Mike in a green Bongwater Tshirt is beyond me...
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