Wednesday, March 15, 2006

It's official, I'm not cool anymore.

I went shopping for blue jeans yesterday. I've never had to "shop" for jeans....ever. I've always known right where to go to get them. In and out...badabing, badabang. The brand, style and fit have always been the same. But not yesterday, buddy.

I went to three department stores in the mall and saw jeans the size of tablecloths with holes, patches, stains, bleach spots, and frayed hem lines. What the hell is all that about? I just wanted a pair of freaking jeans! I don't want to buy brand new jeans big enough for three dudes my size with damned holes in them. I started to get pissed. I asked some sales associate (who must have been in middle school) where I could find some jeans. With a puzzled look on her face she gestured to the 800 racks of fat assed stained jeans with holes in them. I said "No, honey, I want Levi's.....550 relaxed fit jeans. No holes or patches or bleach marks or permanent got any of them?" She led me to about six bins with Levi's, and after paying twice what they were worth, I left.

I got in my car, rolled down the window turned up the radio bobbed my head to some righteous tunes and cruised through the parking lot up to the redlight passed the snickers and stares of a buncha teenagers who were wearing those same baggy jeans and ball caps that were sittin' crooked on their neaderthal skulls. I realized as I pulled out onto the highway jammin out to Alan Parson's Project that it was my music they were laughing at.

I am the next generation of old dudes. Damn. I've never thought of myself as old, just older. It's quite depressing. What's next? Tour bus vacations to the Grand Canyon and earlybird specials at Denny's? Ten miles an hour under the speed limit in a tank sized car, beltone hearing aids, plaid shorts, black socks, mesh backed ball caps and big safety goggle sunglasses that wrap around my bald head....followed shortly by medicaid, prostate removal, big diapers and a semi private rooom at some second rate urine scented "home"?

Shoot me now.