If I look 19, you’re a purple horse


Saturday we had a small going away party for some friends of ours. They’re moving back to LA after two years of this shitty weather

northwest experience. I thought I’d help out since it was a last minute party and offered to bring some beer. I mean, comon, you need beer at a party for bloggers. Or anyone, for that matter.

I stopped at the brewery to pick up a growler of local fare.

“Can I see your ID?”

Sure you can. Thank you for asking. Oh, hon, you’re just so lovely.

Let me find it here. Hang on.

One sec.

Ok, it’s in here somewhere.

No, I don’t know where else it would be. It would be HERE. HERE IN MY PURSE.

It’s gotta be here. One more check.

Ok, look, I’m thirty-five. Can I just have the beer?

“No, Ma’am, I need to scan your ID”

Look, you just called me MA’AM. That should work, right?

“No, I can’t let you have the beer.”

DUDE. I have grey hair! Do you see this body? THIS IS A WOMAN’S BODY, not a girl, not a young, mid, late twenties. Hell, not even early thirties. I’m Mid-Life now. AND I NEED BEER.

“Yea, no, we can’t do that. I’m sorry.”

The people behind me are starting to foam at the mouth. Their beer is within reach and this lady, THIS OLD LADY, is arguing to get her damn beer from a 19 year old who probably isn’t even old enough to be in the bar.

Gah. Fine. But I’ll remember this!

I leave empty handed and head to the party. I relay the story. People think I should be flattered. “It’s flattering! They thought you were young!” It’s a load of crap but it’s nice.

Thankfully there was plenty of beer at the party already so no bunnies got punched in the face.

Just to prove we’re the kind of rad people who send our friends off to California all proper, I even gave Tricia a lap dance.

lap dance

‘Cause that’s what we do when we’re old. And I did it better than a 19 year old.


———————In other news———————-

I’d like to congraluate my parents on their official marriage. They tied the knot via facebook this morning.

mom dad

All I have to say is thank you for being such a great example to your grown children. It’s about fucking time.


7 guests here now.


  1. You look 19 to me! And I do too! La la la happy fairyland!

    By Annika on 2011 06 14

  2. OMG, “It’s about fucking time.” LMAO

    Also, please to be noting the jackets the ladies are wearing. At an outdoor almost summer BBQ. Seattle RULZ.

    By VDog on 2011 06 14

  3. I’d've ID’d you. Related note, when there’s a sign with a pic of a man in his late 50s captioned, “If you look younger than Bob here, we expect ID,” and they DON’T ID you, that sucks.  Very sorry they wouldn’t give you beer.

    Also, lap-dancing at a BBQ is way awesome.

    By CitricSugar on 2011 06 14

  4. It’s definitely flattering to be carded, you know, when you have your ID.  I’m only carded on the rare occasion that my ID is missing or not on me.  *sigh*

    By AmazingGreis on 2011 06 16

  5. In California, they call it a decoy program and the “decoys” have to be under 21, have their own, proper ID on them & must reply honestly if you ask them if they’re 21 or over. I wonder if that’s how it works there?

    That said, if someone looked under 30 and could not produce ID, I’d have to refuse service. It’s lame, but here, they ABC has been going after establishments something fierce. It’s way to easy to get your ass kicked.

    I promise, though, if you come to BlogHer this year, I’ll serve you. Even without ID!

    By Elaine on 2011 06 16