The Height of Maturity

Last night I rekindled my friendship with my Yearbook Protege. Yes that should sound as dorky and awesome as it was. We ended up at Crocodile Lounge for "dinner" - if you've never been there, you get a fresh baked brick oven pizza free! with a drink, no I don't know how they make money either but it's amazing. It happened to be Trivia Night.

Apparently Trivia Night also conveniently coincided with Hot Guy Night. We both took note of a tall blonde who my dad would totally refer to as a "young strapper" and my mom would call a "hunk." I would just say he was smokin'.

And he talked to us. And he got my number. Because I am on top of my A Game.

One slight problem. He just moved to NYC two weeks ago to attend Columbia Law School. While crossing my fingers, I asked if he had worked in between law school and undergrad. "Oh yeah, this summer."

No. That is not working. That is going through your tween years, you child.

Afterward, I went home and lamented to The BFF that he was the same age as my younger brother. She pointed out that at least he wasn't the age of my youngest brother (20)...Look at her and her positive out look on life! So true. Then I would be an actual cougar, which apparently was never really a trend in the first place?!

She changed the subject to let me know she got a new magazine: STAR "Celebrity assistants tell all." But then after waving it in my face, she refused to read it to me like a good night story, prompting me to tweet that she was the worst person ever. (Happy hour and Twitter rarely mix for the best.)

Today via gchat:

The BFF: im sorry i didn't let you know about the assistants confessions. they were pretty hilarious.

me: I STILL HATE YOU FOR THAT

The BFF: i know....im willing to work through it though bc i want to make this relationship work.
 
me: I appreciate that. I"ll take it into consideration.
 
Anyway, I just wanted to share in case you saw the status update and were worried that there was marital strife in Wifey Land. Don't worry, all is forgiven. Especially now that I've learned the horrible assistant secrets, thanks to the Gawker guide summing up the abuse. I could have it much worse.