Whippersnappers...

I'm old. 

Seriously!

Last week I bought a Family Circle magazine. 

That's just embarrassing. 

Family Circle!

I began to suspect I was old this past summer. 

See, some teenagers climbed the fence and got into the neighborhood pool behind our house in the middle of the night. I was up reading and heard them. I had picked up the phone to call the police when I realized what I was doing.

Why would I call the police?

#1 It was none of my business.

#2 My name isn't 'Old Lady So and So.'

#3 They were probably having a ton of fun. 

#4 They would probably have gotten in a ton of trouble. 

So, buying old lady magazines and almost calling the cops on teenagers are two definite signs of getting old. 

Ya know what else is a sure sign?

I've become one of those people that complains about gas prices.

Its true. 

But here is the deal:

Back when...

Wait.

Did I just start a sentence with 'back when?"

Lets just add that to the signs I'm getting old column. 

Sheesh. 

Anyway...

When I was in college and wore cave girl costumes to parties:

I could fill my car up for $20 plus buy a small fountain coke. 

Now...

Oh, you know the story. 

Its dang expensive.

Ya know what else shows I'm getting old?

My trash.

Its boring:

I mean a toothbrush, a Parents magazine, a diaper, and a Lunchable. 

First: Is there anything on the planet grosser than a Lunchable?

Second: Parents magazine makes women with neurotic tendencies even more neurotic. It should probably hang out in the trash as soon as it gets to my mailbox. This is because I spend the whole time I'm reading it yelling really supportive things like: "Get over it!"

I'm sorry I made you look at my trash. 

That's gross.

My Mom is probably going to yell at me about it. 

Hmmm...my Mom still yells at me.

Maybe I'm not that old...

You can disregard this blog.