June 03, 2012


Yesterday, just shy of dusk, Matt and I were walking our children home from Do Division where we went not to get our Divisions did, but just to talk to an old friend who was in town playing, which we did, mostly about the Allman Brothers.

We turned up the street, away from the troop surge of spraytanned girls in purpose-driven packs and flip-flop bros in deep drunksplanation, with the baby in the double stroller and big kiddo exhausted and limp on Matt’s shoulders. We were talking about houses and then the science of bras and why all the young women at the street fair had melon cleavage that splayed just shy of the clavicle. We were walking past a porch where three hip young-twenties dudes were enjoying beers and such, all leaning towards the rap from the laptop, silently, nodding. They might have had a hibachi going. Matt stopped talking and squinched his face for a second and just as we passed beyond their porch he backed up and asked, “Is that “What’s Up, Fatlip?”. “Uh, yeah,” replied one of the boys.

I started laughing. “You just ruined those boys lives. Here they are thinking they’re cool with their nineties rap party on the porch, and they just got the flash forward of their lives in 10 years. That sooner than they think they are going to be an old dude with two kids, a giant stroller and a button down shirt.”

Posted by jessica hopper at June 3, 2012 11:14 PM | TrackBack