So I was Skinny Dipping and....

I realize that this post is going to make me sound old and crotchety, but I'm alright with it. 

One of the main reasons I started this blog was so that I could rant and rave about all of the little things in life that got under my skin, which I haven't done, not even once.  This fact makes me simultaneously proud and sad.  Have I grown up?  Do the little things really not irritate me anymore?  

I always considered my ability to complain as part of my charm.  What would it mean if I lost the ability to kvetch about pretty much anything?  Who would I be and what would I become?  A complacent, khaki-clad country clubber who sips martinis while continually agreeing with every word out of her husband's mouth?  I could practically hear my individuality gasping for its last breath.

Then something happened last night that made me believe that everything will be ok.

A few weeks ago a new frozen yogurt place opened in a shopping center near my house - its called The Skinny Dip.  Its one of those self-serve, top it yourself, pay by the ounce places.  I love it.  I'm addicted: I could go there every night.  Really, I think it should be called The Cracky Dip and it should be in the house on my street that's been for sale for a few months.  I never make it "skinny."  I mean why put fruit or granola on your yogurt when you have every type of candy to pick from?  I mean they even have cookie dough!

Anyways, the local Skinny Dip seems to be a magnet for just about everyone in the area.  I always see someone I know when I go Skinny Dipping (they call it that too).  But my beloved FroYo shop also seems to attract the stupidest people on the planet.  Ok, maybe not on the planet, but definitely in the greater Chesapeake area.  

Last night I made one of my regular treks to the yogurt place with my mom.  Two girls were in line behind us, both wearing college t-shirts which made me think that they were high school seniors getting ready to graduate.  We were filling up our cups when the girls behind us sampled a flavor called "Snow White Vanilla."  Girl A turns to Girl B and whines in a disappointed sort of way, "But this just tastes like vanilla........?!"


Now I don't know if its the fact that I'm a Skinny Dip connoisseur or the fact that I actually have the ability to think, but it seems kind of obvious to me that a flavor called "Snow White Vanilla" actually would just taste like vanilla.  What else would it taste like?  Snow?  And I don't have synesthesia (can be found on the wiki, here) so I'm not quite sure what white would taste like.  And I desperately hope beyond hope that these girls were not hoping to eat frozen yogurt that tasted like one of the Disney Princesses.

Maybe I'm being overly critical of them as a result of my vast experience in dealing with ice cream.  But I really don't think I am.  I feel like most high school kids need a good solid dose of reality before they should be let loose on the world.  


If it takes a village to raise a child, the village failed these girls and turned them into the village idiots.