After a good workout at Curves, I made the long trek across the street to my tanning salon... shit, just gave away my secret... anyways, while waiting for a bed I was chatting with the receptionist. She couldn't have been much older than 20. In the background, the salon's tv was tuned into The Flavor of Love... the receptionist said I could change the channel if I wanted too. I said I didn't really mind one way or the other.
She then asked me wasn't Flavor Flav in some group a long time ago, and what's up with the clock? Bam! It's like time stood still. For the first time I realized the pop culture I grew up with was becoming unfamiliar territory to those younger than me.
Once I was over the split second shock, I explained to her that Flavor Flav was a part of Public Enemy - again another blank look. And the clock, well that was his thing. Lots of guys, even some girls wore huge, chunky things around their neck backs then. Again, a blank stare.
I don't usually feel old, or mature for that matter, even as I stare down the barrel of the gun to 29. And I live by the age old adage, you are only as old as you feel. But sometimes there are strange reminders out there that you aren't as young as you used to be, no matter how young you look or feel.
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