Hey you kids get off my lawn!

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This weekend I went to see a movie with my mom and aunt. We had the unfortunate luck of being seated behind 4 pre-teen or early teen girls (I’d guess they were probably 14 or so) who proceeded to annoy the hell out of me throughout the movie. They talked, giggled, fidgeted, opened their phones and texted for the 2 hours, sometimes paying attention to what was on the screen, but mostly not. At the very beginning of the movie an usher came down, shined his flashlight on them and asked them to keep it down, but they didn’t seem to take him too seriously.

It bummed me out because I was feeling like one of those “old” people, complaining about “kids these days” and how they don’t know how to behave, etc etc. Have I become the square, uncool adult I said I’d never become? Trying to have some sympathy, I thought about what I was like at their age, when the world seemed to revolve around me and I was just having fun. The thing is, I don’t remember being that disrespectful or acting that stupid and rude. I just wanted to smack the one with the ponytail onside the head with her own cell phone. Man, I will not raise any daughter of mine to act like that in public.

Ok, enough venting. Anyway, speaking of being a teenager, I had a party a few years back that was an 8th Grade Graduation party. The idea was to reflect that innocent time right before you enter high school and you’re all excited about the possibility but haven’t become jaded and hateful about the cliques just yet. Or maybe you’re just figuring out which clique you’re going to be in? Well, as usual, my friends rose to the occasion and got really creative with the outfits and personas they came up with (special thanks to The Chess Kings, aka The Holiday Band for providing appropriate rockage for the party and over all stone foxiness). I finally got some pictures up on Flickr and created a photoset of all the shenanigans. Bear in mind that this was five years ago, BEFORE much of this clothing started being re-interpreted by today’s young retro hipsters. It was so awesome — nerds dancing with popular girls, prepsters and private school kids hanging with the the art misfits, drama clubbers and burnouts sharing a drink. I grew up in the central valley suburb of Fresno, California, but everyone seemed to have their version of stoners, brains, “soches” (from “social”) and jocks wherever they went to school. And at the party– all the cliques got along famously.

If only it was like that in real life.

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