Let's see if she'll crack under pressure!
- Security guard at the House of Blues.
I understand getting carded before receiving a pink wrist band for drinks... but getting interrogated? Homie, do I really look that young?
The dude stared at my license, then me, my license, then me, and once again at my license... and then me. Then he made that comment.
"I wanted to make sure you wouldn't get nervous."
Umm... alright?
It didn't make me feel young... which... is probably why I was bothered so much by it. Just thinking he thought I was a minor, eager to get the damn wristband made me a little mad.
Fuck your wristband, dude! I'm not an alcoholic.
I just wanted to mark myself apart from all the other tiny young kids there.... besides the parents, Chase and I were one of the oldest chicks there.
Bummer, man.
Ya estoy ruca pa' la chingada!
P.S. I can't believe it's June already! I once again have Mexico fever, where I'm fuckin' counting down the days till I leave this inferno (43 days!!) and head to cooler climates where it rains all pretty... and there are horses... and people from all over the U.S. I haven't seen in a year get there... and where we get to look for ghosts at the town cemetery (ok, that gives me nightmares for months, so it's not so fun)... and where I get to eat all the Dirty-Word-Candy I want (haha. I ate the last piece today. Bummed me out a little, but at least now I can say stuff like "Man, I miss Panocha"<-- that feels HORRIBLE to say outloud. Horrible.)... and where I play volleyball for hours until the sun goes down!
Oh! I'm so excited (even if I'm considered even older over there... stupid teenagers and their youth)!
1 comment:
Hola prima! I'm barely getting started on my blogspot. But I think your post is pretty to the point and I feel your pain...even though I am not of age yet, I've seen the way they act towards my friends when we go to HoB. Damn security guards.
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