Today I'm 40. And I'm still naive. Apparently, it's who I am. I try to be "street smart", but it seems that the more experience I experience, the less I know.
Take for instance last summer. The hubbs and I were hanging out on our friend's patio having a couple beers. Some were smoking and I noticed one of them pounding their cigarette on the table to get the nicotine down to the top. I'm not a smoker, but I have a weird obsession with smokers. They own a rebellion I've ever experienced. It's this mentality like, "Fuck cancer, I like it. So I do it." I've never been able to think that way.
Anyway, so on our walk home I said, "Wow, they were smoking some stale cigarettes. Those things were clanking on the table when they were tapping them."
My husband said, "Oh sweetie. I love you. Those weren't cigarettes. It was pot." What? I was surrounded by drugs? In my hometown suburb???
Later, we shared this story with our neighbors. They said, "Well, Mary Jane never hurt anyone."
"Who's Mary Jane?"
"You are fucking kidding me."
That's when my husband stepped in to defend my [apparently fragile] reputation. "She's not kidding. It's her charm." God bless him.
The conversation went on for hours about how I'm pretending to be clueless with my husband explaining that I'm for real and it's not an act.
I put this to the test when my sister Kim came over. I needed to know if it was just me or if our entire family was sheltered to the point of isolation from street slang.
I said, "I'm so embarrassed, we were hanging out with friends the other night and I just learned what Mary Jane is."
She said, "Why, is Mary Jane really a man?"
"No. It's slang for marijuana."
"Oh. Well, I just found out what gahnge is."
My husband couldn't take it anymore and left the kitchen.
And even as I write this, I had to google "gahnge" to learn how to spell it.
And apparently I still have it wrong because the definition of gahnge is, "An Irish term for a complete idiot."
That aptly sums it up.