The Latest Generation

You know how you have, say, younger nieces, nephews, cousins or even brothers and sisters who, when they're growing up, think you're just the cat's meow; the hottest thing since microwaveable mac 'n' cheese. You relish the time when their warpable minds will do every little thing you say 'cause it's cool, and it came out of your mouth.

You know there'll come a time when they realize you're nothing more than a fuddy-dud adult who doesn't quite get it. But when that time comes, you're still not prepared for it. I experienced that this weekend with my cousin Cara.

She's 15 and hasn't read the tween mag I work for since she was about 12. She's suddenly hit the teenage angst bit full force, and handles it more glamorously than I ever could. Where I was once "cool," she's gone beyond—listening to bands that Billboard would never touch, knowing a real vintage deal when she sees it, educating herself about politics and the ways of the world, and more importantly, perfecting the smokey eye and the messy bun that took me years to get.

And she has a boyfriend. They love each other. It's really cute. He hopes to be a slightly hairier version of Donald Trump. Yikes. What are they? Generation Y? Regardless, Gen. Y has come a long way, and it's scary. 'Cause Gen. X is gettin' old. Fast.

A Tale of Tina's Travels

Thanksgiving with the fam for five days.

4:30 a.m. Car picks me up to take me to Newark Airport. Feel a slight deja vu, as I realize I just saw Garden State two days before. Am absolutely shocked that my cabby is not only hot, but he speaks non-broken English. As we talk about the joys of Hoboken, I spend the majority of the cab ride debating on slipping him my new business card (sans any mention of a non-existent promotion, but complete with cell number for easy...slippage.) When it comes time to dole out $40 I instinctively reach for the business card, then recoil. I just couldn't face the fear of rejection! As he grabs my bag out of the trunk, I spot a ring on what may be his middle finger. Subconsciously, I tell myself it was a wedding ring, so I wasn't really missing out on a potential date, right? Geez, I seem desperate. Really, I'm totally not! What wrong with making new friends? Anyway...

Flight to Atlanta: Sat next to a sophomore in college studying costume design. God, I'm getting old.

Flight to Memphis: When I'm waiting to board my flight, I always scope out the single cuties, and mentally pray that they'll be seated next to moi. Does anyone else do that? One cutie with a Texan twang sits in 29A. I'm 29C! I mentally yelp with glee as I take my seat. A scruffy blue-eyed guy and I make eyes as he walks closer. He sits in 29B! Oh, my luck! I do my best to put on the charm...then the two boys discuss the joys of contracting as a profession throughout the flight...and I sit, in my Big Bird yellow sweater and listen to The Sad Song of the Moment. Damn.

But ya know? Who am I kidding?! As if I'm going to meet the love of my life in an Atlanta airport. When I live in Jersey. Where's Zach Braff when ya need him? Oh yeah. Fucking Mandy Moore.

Please Don't Hate Me Because I'm Honest

POLITICS. Ugh. It's everywhere these days. No, I did not vote yesterday. Although I live in Hoboken, I do not feel strong ties to the state of New Jersey, nor its elected govorner. I think the last one was gay...hmm. I'm all for diversity in the government. Anyway, I feel closer to New York, yet I still have a Missouri driver's license. So I didn't vote. Horrible, I know.

I've only voted twice, once for Al Gore and once for John Kerry. I've just never been one to follow politics; I'll watch the debate when it blocks out all the other basic cable channels. And I'll always vote for the Donkey, unless the Donkey is a complete and absolute Ass. Anyway, I feel like I should be more educated about politics, but the topic couldn't bore me any less. BR1 likes Elephants and BR2 likes Donkeys, like I do. The two of them could talk politics all day while I sit there...and play my video game. Ugh. I don't even want to PRETEND I'm interested. Sure, I'm passionate about my views on stem-cell research and abortion rights. But a guy dressed up as Karl Rove at a recent Halloween party...well, I just didn't get the joke.

All this talk about war...sure, I want to see Jarhead, but my motives are different than most—Jake Gyllenhaal bares his naked bottom in THREE scenes. My point is, am I un-American because I don't know who Karl Rove is? Because I didn't vote for my govorner? I care about the state of the nation, I just don't know what state it's in half the time. I guess I kind of enjoy being in my bubble...unless I get to see a naked butt.

Wednesday Night Anger

I've suddenly realized that many of my friends have become half a couple. More and more, my girlfriends are getting googly-eyed and happy...all the time. I wanna be in the couples club, so I can be constantly happy, too. "What? You say my apartment has roaches? That's OK. I have a boyfriend." Or "What's that you say? I'm $127 over-drawn in checking? It's fine! Really, I'll be fine. Why, you ask? Because I have a boyfriend!"

Everything's fine when you're in love, or lust, or crush...whatev! But last night at the gym I was listening to "Break Stuff" by old Limp Bizkit, and I suddenly felt better. There's just something about angry boy music that makes me feel like I'm one tough bitch. There I am...at the treadmill mentally singing the words, "If my day keeps going this way I just might break your F-ing face tonight, give me somethin' to break! Just give me somethin' to break! How 'bout your F-ing face?" And I'm discreetly punching the air Rocky-style, jog, punch, jog, punch. The other gym members were probably a little scared, but really, I'm fine. Because I DON'T have a boyfriend and can do weird things like impersonate Rocky. If I were in a relationship, I'd probably be too busy doin' it than to do weird things like that. God forbid that I not have the time to do weird things...

Mental Sex Change?

10 reasons why living with BR1 and BR2 is turning me into a boy:

1. I play video games. A lot. BR2 says that playing VGs help him relieve stress. Lately, I've been rushing home from work to either play Leisure Suit Larry, where you earn points by picking up chicks, or Super Mario 3. Right now, I'm stuck on World 8 and all I wanna do is save the Princess from Bowser's evil clutch!

2. I'm not afraid to fart. Not only that, but I don't mind if it's loud. (Mine are usually quiet, and they smell like roses.) BR2 likes to lift up his leg and let one rip.

3. I talk about sex. And I don't get embarrassed like I used to. Now, whenever I hear the word "penetration" I giggle like a 12-year-old boy.

4. I'm no longer that clean. BR1 left his spaghetti on the stove for four days. I was too stubborn to throw it away, so it sat there. All weekend.

5. I let everyone know when it's time for me to poop. OK, I've always done that. The word "poop" makes me laugh. BR2 and I discuss the joys of the activity at least every other day.

6. I laugh in the face of love. A BFF of mine recently became someone's girlfriend. It's fun to make fun of couples.

7. I watch Family Guy. Granted, I only watch it when they're watching it. But nevertheless, I watch it, and I laugh. I secretly enjoy it. But I will never ever watch Rome.


Umm...you know? I just can't think of any more reasons. I swore there were a lot, but truth be told, I'm still a girl. I'm sensitive, and I watch Laguna Beach and The OC. I'm moody, I like cuddling, and I like peanut butter with chocolate. Oh well.