Sometimes I worry about the future. Not in a “I’m going to die” kind of way, but in a “what’s wrong with kids these days” way. Yeah, I know. But we’ve already established my geezerhood, so I might as well roll with it.
Today I was at a convenience store, picking up a Dr. Pepper and a dark chocolate Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. Don’t you judge me. I was stuck in line behind two guys–probably in their late teens–who, as best I could tell, had been dropped on their heads as children. Multiple times. I felt sorry for the poor cashier helping them…until she started talking.
How, indeed? Honestly, people, I’m flummoxed. I don’t even know what to write here. It’s bad enough that all three of them have no idea how to write cursive, but to actually admit it to another person? No. Not okay.
*If you’re either too young or too old to recognize the reference in the title (and you want to know why I’m using poor grammar) go here.
**I should rename my blog “Blogging Without Pants.” They’re all in the wash again. Aren’t you glad I don’t video blog? Yeah, me too.