The End of Badass

Dear Diary,

I said something was Badass and my daughter rolled her eyes.
“What?” I said.
“That’s so old news.” she said.  She’s ten. She’s not even ALLOWED to say half of that word.

How the hell is “badass” old news? And who is she to be the queen of cool trendy things?  Ever since she started her Lifestyle blog, suddenly she knows things.

I kept mumbling to myself as I was shuffling around the house moving piles of crap from one spot to another.

I mean “badass” can’t expire!? Right? There’s never before been a word like “badass!” It’s Badass!

I shuffled more. Because kids these days!

The image I have of myself shuffling is with pink velcro rollers and a housedress but I swear I wasn’t wearing that. And I wasn’t wearing Mom-jeans, okay?

Then I looked up in shock. Oh fuck!  It used to be “bitchin'”  and before that “smokin”  and before that “kewl” and oh fuck!

I’m totally badass! And I’m vintage!  I’m old! I’m outdated!  What will become of me? What’s next?

“Whatever!” I say to her holding my fingers up in a W in front of my face.  “I’ve got to jet.”

I tried to hold it together as I shuffled to my room to call a friend on my cordless phone because my smartphone is out of batteries.

Calgon?  Take me away?



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