So Gabe and I attempted to go dancing last night (for the first time since I found out I was pregnant with Caroline). The result - we found out we are old. Well...we're too old AND too young.
Our first destination was dinner at Chuy's with our friends Lindy, Jeff, Terri, and Richard. We had a GREAT time ... but could have easily gone home after. However, since Caroline was with her GiGi and Paw Paw, we fought back our yawns and went over to The Broken Spoke (I have been talking about wanting to go dancing forever). Yeah...not what I thought it was going to be. The lights were all on (sorry, but it needs to be dark for dancing magic to happen) and the median age of the BS's clientele appeared to be about 50.
That being a flop, our next attempt was Midnight Rodeo. The lights were dim, but the customer's were young. Now mind you ... I thought we were their age. But Gabe quickly informed me that we do not look like 20 - something's anymore. And boy has country music changed! I just wanted to dance to some George Strait or Rascal Flatts or anyone else that is truly "country." The band they had playing was some sort of rock want-to-be. Of course...that could be my age talking, because apparently the drunk 23 year olds thought they were fantastic.
I should have known we were in trouble when the security dude at the door carded me and looked puzzled at my picture. I said, "do I really look that young?" To which he replied, "No, I was puzzled b/c it looks like you have cut your hair."
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Ha Ha Ha - I was laughing so hard when I read this. I know what you mean we tailgated with a bunch of college kids yesterday and the things they talk about make me feel sooooo old.
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