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How I Know I'm Old


Many times a day, I'm reminded of how old I am. Maybe it's because neon shirts and skin-tight jeans are in style again. Or maybe it's the fact that walking through the cloud of thunderous music and teargas cologne leaking out of Hollister gives me an instant migraine. God forbid I go inside and actually try to percieve a tiny tank top in its darkened hallows; I would probably pass out on a pile of sweaters from the eyestrain. In any case, I certainly feel old. But, I've never felt quite as old as I did when I listened to that Lady GaGa song, Just Dance, while sitting in my car. You really need to listen to it to get the full effect.



I had a completely unexpected, and elderly, reaction to it. A youngster, perhaps a Whitney Port or a Gossip Girl, might hear the song, hop out of her car, and heed its imperative message to just dance by actually dancing; I, the old one, had this inner monologue happening.


Oh-oh, eh
I've had a little bit too much, much
All of the people start to rush, start to rush by
How does he twist the dance? Can't find a drink, oh man
Where are my keys? I lost my phone, phone

Oh no, she lost her phone? She needs that! It's really hard to get back all those phone numbers. Wait, she can't find her keys? They probably fell out of her purse! They're probably on the floor! Lady GaGa! Check the floor!

What's going on on the floor?
I love this record baby but I can't see straight anymore
Keep it cool, what's the name of this club?I can't remember but it's alright, a-alright
Just dance, gonna be okay, da da doo-doo-mmm
Just dance, spin that record babe, da da doo-doo-mmm
Just dance, gonna be okay, d-d-d-dance
Dance, dance, just, j-j-just dance

Did someone give her roofies? She doesn't even know where she is! It is not gonna be okay, nor alright, this is getting really, really dangerous.

Wish I could shut my playboy mouth, oh oh oh-oh
How'd I turn my shirt inside out? Inside out right

Okay, now I'm seriously worried. She can't see, she doesn't know where she is, she may or may not have been slipped a date rape drug, and now she's engaging in alcohol and drug-related risky behavior. Somebody help her! She's going to get a DUI! Get her out of there!


It pretty much continues on like that for awhile, until my favorite part of the song, which goes

Spend the lasto(I got it)In your pocko(I got it)

I think it means spend all your money, but who knows, it could some sort of code for everybody do ecstasy. The point is, I don't know because I'm old. I'm so old I want to take care of a pretend girl in a song lest she get into sketchy trouble at the imaginary club that doesn't even exist. I'm going to go spend the lasto in my pocko on Golden Girls DVDs so I can just see what's right around the corner.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Are you Tina Fey?

caitlin said...

Oh my gosh, I wish!

caitlin said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Whitney said...

That is quite possibly the worst song I've ever heard. I'm old too. ("Gosh, total song-writer's block... crap, I just spilled the contents on my purse on the floor... wait a minute, I think I'm on to something!")