aging gracefully - not

A few months ago our Prius got a flat, so I went to Costco for a replacement tire. I also needed to pick up some anti-aging face cream (they sell it for a lot less than the $165 that Macy's charges), so already you might have a clue to what my frame of mind was.

It was a weekday, and the parking lot was full of middle-aged housewives. Partly because of the company, mostly because of what I saw looking back at me in the mirror that morning, I was feeling very not young. I walked up to the counter, and despite his facial hair, tattoos, and piercings, the guy behind the counter looked like he wasn't old enough to drive. Actually, he looked like a zygote.

I told him the problem, what size tire I needed, etc. The tires were on sale, it would only be a 2-hour wait, so I handed him my Costco AMEX card, which has my picture on the back. It's a funny picture. I look tough, like I'm posing for my mugshot, but I also look about ten years younger so, you know, I like the photo.

He looks at the picture, looks up at me, then back at the card and again at me.

"Don't I look like I'm yakuza in that picture? Don't be scared."

The zygote laughed, nodding.

"Yeah, you look pretty tough."

He printed out my estimate, then asked, "Can I get your car keys?"

Every time I park valet, I worry that the attendants won't know how the safe key thing works on a Prius. It can be complicated to the uninitiated. I started to hand him my keys, but I pulled them back and before I could stop myself the words just came tumbling out.

"Can you rock a Prius?"

Inwardly, I shuddered. But I remained poker-faced. If Baby Hipster Mechanic thought I was ridiculous for saying that, he didn't show it.

He nodded as he took my keys, "Yeah, I can rock a Prius."

I gave him my keys, signed the estimate - I just couldn't get out of there fast enough. "Can you rock a Prius?" That does it, it's official, I'm ridiculous.

good news - i won / bad news - i'm old

Thanks to the lovely people over at losanjealous, I won tickets to see Raul Malo at the El Rey Theatre this past Tuesday. I read somewhere that it was also his record release party, though I didn't see any evidence of that.

I was very surprised that I won the tickets. I never win anything. Then we got to the El Rey and saw the crowd. It was an older crowd. And I was one of them. I remembered the other ticket giveaways and shows mentioned on losanjealous - those were the shows that kids these days go to. Their parents, go to the show I was at. I think I won only because I'm the oldest person to read losanjealous. If we made a Venn diagram of losanjealous readers and Raul Malo fans who could get out of the house on a school night to attend a concert, I would probably be the only overlap. So I guess it makes sense that I won the tickets.

I must admit, I'm only a casual fan. I was a big Mavericks fan and have all their CDs, but only one Raul Malo solo CD. He started off with a song unfamiliar to me, a real slow snorer of a song. Bad choice to open with, but his voice was amazing. He sang a bunch of covers, most of them from his 2006 release, You're Only Lonely. But about four songs in, he covered one of my favorite Dwight Yoakam songs, "Pocket of a Clown" from This Time. Okay, he had me.



A funny moment in the show - during "What A Crying Shame", Raul Malo picked up a tray of shots. It looked like Patron Silver from where I was standing, but I could be wrong. So anyway, mid-song, he offers one to the guy on keyboards, who accepts. Raul hold the tray up to his drummer, who immediately drops his sticks and takes a shot glass. The bass player, who had been distracting me throughout the show because he's a dead ringer for Eric Richardson of blogdowntown (seriously, I had to check to make sure he wasn't wearing flip-flops onstage), does his best to keep the rhythm going, but succumbs and takes a shot. Music forgotten, they toast and drink. A beat, then they pick up where they left off and finish the song.



What's even more pathetic than the quality of these "craptastic cell phone photos" (as losanjealous calls them) taken at the show? That we had to leave the show before it ended. To let the puppy out. Then to sing him to sleep and put him to bed. This is the new me? I don't know if the old, pill-popping, vodka-swilling, up-all-night-but-where-are-we-going-for-brunch me would be happy for the new me, or sneer before dispatching the new me with a dismissive wave. Thanks for the tickets losanjealous, and in a roundabout way, thanks for gently making me face the fact that I'm not a kid anymore.