The Politics of Pretty

For silly blog Sunday.....

Never would I have guessed that the good-looking Barrista was an English major. Surfer, possibly. Frat boy, yes. But then I overheard his consternation over the way these kids today are using language, or lack thereof. Since it’s one of my pet peeves (see words matter post) I honed into the conversation. He told me about his little sister and how annoyed he was in her high handed usage of the word “like.” “Oh yeah,” I said, staring into his eyes. I probably should have told him I used to use like, more than I drank water or even breathed air before I graduated Laguna Beach High School. Then, on purpose, I eradicated it from my vocabulary so that no one would think I was an idiot when I moved to Northern California to go to college. (I still use like on occasion but I’m more guilty of using um or you know as space fillers). I would tell him there’s hope but I gathered post high school, his sister is still speaking without thinking – i.e. using catch phrases everyone else does. I told him my biggest peeve phrase, “you know riiiiiiiiiight”. He shuttered as he poured my decaf. Sorry I said. We talked a bit and then he chose to close the conversation about telling me about the afternoon discount. Was he paranoid that my cougar “ness” was flirting with him? That I would ruin his cool? Why – because he’s good looking? I did the unthinkable as he gave me the receipt. I thanked him with, “oh nice!” I shirked off.

Why do these pretty people alarm me so and thwart me from my usual wittiness? It was like I like was in high school or something. Is it really that easy to digress? Or did I not like get over high school or something?