Last night, I stormed out of a bar for the first time in ages. I’m still not entirely sure why I did it, but I was getting increasingly annoyed about the fact that people kept turning up at the bar and getting served ahead of me simply because they had breasts and I didn’t. Anyway, after one other punter who’d arrived after me got served, I said something pithy and ironic to the barstaff and left. Well, okay, that’s not quite true. I swore loudly at the bar staff and stormed out. In retrospect, this was quite embarassing, and it’s not something I intend to make too much of a habit of, but for a short while, it made me feel a bit better.
Later on, at Rock Kitchen in the MMU (whose idea of a rock night appears to differ from mine, in that I do not consider PJ and Duncan’s “Let’s get ready to Rhumble” to be a rock song), I saw a student wearing a Ghostbusters t-shirt. Ghostbusters came out in 1984. If this student was a fresher, he would have been born in 1986, two years after the film came out. He will also have been 11 when I came to University. This sort of thing troubles me.
He would have been 7 when I started university …
Hell, he wouldn’t even remember when George Michael was straight (so to speak) let alone ghost busters …
I was enrolling students at our college and had to stop myself from saying, ‘1988! You can’t have been born in 1988 – that was yesterday!’
Might have made me look a bit old, rather than ‘down’ with da kids. I still feel like a teenager and then I see real teenagers and realise how unlike them I am. Standards have changed, I reckon.
Maybe this is my baby-faced youth speaking but… Let’s Get Ready To Rhumble *rules*.
Reminds me of going to a bar with Gills. She got served in 15 seconds, I got served in 15 minutes. Evidently she is 60 times more attractive to bar staff than me. Or something.
rob: To be fair, you were going to a bar with /Gill/. If the fact she’s short, dark and attractive didn’t get the barman’s attention, the accent would have sealed the deal.