I had just picked up our babysitter, who is (I think) 17 years old, and was bringing her back to the house to experience the terror that is She Who Will Not Be Named. As we were driving through her neighborhood, we spotted a dog running loose down the sidewalk. A Yorkie, by the looks of it.
The Babysitter: Uh oh, look at that dog.
Me: Yeah, he's gonna be street pizza if his owner doesn't grab him.
TB: [favors me with an odd look]
Me: What, don't kids these days say "street pizza" anymore? What's the new "hep" lingo?
TB: I usually just say "roadkill."
Me: Pffft. My grandfather says "roadkill." How about "extreme puppy pancakes?"
TB: Nope.
Me: "Street pizzle for shizzle?"
TB: I don't watch MTV.
Me: And I'm letting you take care of my kid?
Here's hoping my communication skills improve before my own kid becomes a teenager. I'm not counting on it, however.
And for those of you aghast at the fact I didn't stop to recover the animal in question, its owner was, in fact, overtaking it as we had our little conversation.
"He's down! He's street pizza!"
I love Dark Knight.
Your very own Simpsons episode, and it could start with:
"Omigod! There's a 1985 near-mint condition Tommy Herr baseball card stuck to her ass!"
Remind me to move the oxygen tent which gives me sexual powers to an interior room. The better to foil the paparazzi.
Thing, did you get my e-mail about Saturday night?
Ah, the teenaged, withering look, I remember it well. Girls have perfected that technique over the yeas. It's one of many in their arsenal.
In your anecdote, you left out one very important detail...
Is your teenage babysitter hot?
--
What?