High-five my genetics

Guy: Miss! Miss!
Me: ... yes?
Guy: Can I ask you a question?
Me: ...
Guy: Do you consider yourself a good person or a bad person?
Me: ... well, I can be either depending on the situation...

I get the strangest people approaching me.
This time around, I was making a quick pitstop in the ghetto... the ghetto mall, when this young blond guy stopped me as I walked towards the ONE store I was risking my life for.
He tried convincing me he went to UNLV and was conducting a study on... human behavior or something like that.
Dude was playing these crazy mind games... those weird tricks teachers always played on students back in middle school to see who payed attention to instructions.
I was rushed, sort of scared... annoyed... and oddly enough, feeling very sorry for the guy. He looked more like a meth-addict than a college student (not that those two are mutually exclusive...), around 23 years old.

Why did I stay? He thought I was 21... then he high-fived me after I told him I was 27.
"High-five to your awesome genetics!"
I mean... how could I be mean to a dude who makes me high-five that shit? Kid could have shanked me for all I cared.

I spent the rest of the evening wondering if the dude mindfucked me into doing something stupid... or worse yet, if he robbed me gypsy-style and I hadn't noticed.

I need to quit being such a stereotypical chick.

Hocus-Pocus, fool

This summer really made me feel old.
I know I'm not... but I'm no teenager, either.

And Mexico's a different world... any chick above 16 is old news. So I'm like... a relic over there.

It was strange when this 17 year old girl I hung out with my last week there (forcefully, I might add. She's totally my polar opposite) told me
"Oh wow... you're 22? You don't look 22... you look... 18."
18? Shit... not even she believed it when it came out her mouth.

Anyway... point is: I came back feeling like an old lady.

However... being that I'm on break... I tend to get bored... and my iPod comes to the rescue.

I had forgotten 19-year-old Casanova had given me songs from his music library to put on my iPod.
It was this late-night thing where I dropped by his house the night before he left to California so I could take as much of his music as I pleased (he had a ton... too bad I only knew about 1/5 of the bands in there).
Time was short, there was too much music to choose from, so I just told him:

"Pick out your favorite music... just save them onto OlderBrother's
Flash Drive by putting them in my folder. Who cares if I haven't heard the
group/song... if you think I need to know it, just add it in there and I promise
I'll learn the songs by the next time I see you"

(remember, this kid had a thing for singing to me whenever we were alone... and since I rarely knew the lyrics... I could never join in... so I usually sat there... listening in silence and trying to avoid any sort of... body contact. Way to make shit creepy, right?)

So that kept 19-year-old Casanova busy while I went to his younger brother (the blooming 18-year-old that was... so cute) because the younger brother had iTunes on his computer, and it would be easier for me to just upload them straight to my iPod.

Now... I hand picked every song I got from the 18-year-old (I liked his music library better... I knew 98% of the artists there), so whenever I bump into them while listening to my iPod, I'll think

"Oh yeah, this is from 18-year-old-cutie-kid... God... where has this song been
all my life?!"

(it was thanks to him that I found one of my all-time favorite songs: Bryan Adam's "Have you ever really loved a woman"--damn, could that title be any longer?-- after searching... and forgetting it existed... then finding it in Spanish... and then finally finding it through 18-year-old boy. I almost kissed him when I found he had it. I did let "Oh my God, *18-year-old-boy* I fucking love you right now! You're my all-time favorite guy now. I fucking love you man," slip. And then we danced to some techno real quick, and I got back to downloading music).
But recently, I've been bumping into the songs 19-year-old Cassanova gave me... and I seriously have to sit back and say:
"What the hell... is this??.... Why... hey... I've heard this in a lot of 80's movies..."
and especially this:
"Is this... another love song...?? Kid... WTF?"

I bumped into this hidden gem of his yesterday:
More Than Words by Extreme.

Holy... Mary... Mother of God...
Saweeeeeeeeet.

Sure... the lyrics are... sort of... hmmm, when you think about it... but I had that thing on repeat.

Extreme? Who the hell are they? Doesn't Frankie J sing this?

So then I googled Extreme... and found out they were the original singers... and guess what:
I felt young again!!

Ahahaha.
Yes. My youth was returned once I got to thinking:

Yo... I was 5-6 when this song first came out... and while I don't remember this song... thinking about 1991
takes me wayyyy back... to the ghettoooo

(in a good way).

I've never felt so good about being ignorant to a song's origin.
I'm not so old... 'cause I can't even remember an 80's-90's rock band (but this kid born in 1988 could? Whatever).
Sweeeet!

So I guess something good came out of hanging out with the boy who had a thing for older women...

But I do feel like a witch... like I secretly stole some of his youth...
Whatever. It's mine now.

Keep your stupid wristband!

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)!