Army of Mom

So this is how liberty dies ... with thunderous applause.


14 vs. 41

I have been told by more than one person that, on the inside, I am really a 14-year-old girl and not a 41-year-old suburban mini-van driving baseball mom.

So, I was thinking, what exactly are the facts for each side? Am I really more like a teenage girl or am I a middle-aged VH1-loving woman that no one calls Miss anymore?

So, lets examine the evidence as to why I could be considered a teenager:
1. Look at my last post.
2. Team Jacob. Duh?
3. I know who Franz Ferdinand is and I like 'em.
4. It is so unfair that I don't have an Ipod or Iphone. All my friends have them!
5. Jonas Brothers? Oh yeah, I'd do all three of 'em.
6. I can kick your ass at the cha cha slide.
7. I like Lady Gaga's music.
8. I considered Drop It Low for my ring tone.
9. I am still reading the Percy Jackson book series.
10. Dylan and Cole Sprouse? Oh yeah, the Suite Life rulez!

Why I'm considered an old fart:
1. Ear gauges? All I can think is National Geographic.
2. Justin Bieber. Who?
3. Pants worn low with undies sticking out the top? Pull up your pants!
4. I have no pictures of me with my tongue hanging out.
5. No ambitions of getting anything pierced other than my earlobes.
6. I thought a rook was a chess piece.
7. Prefer Adam Sandler's "Red Hooded Sweatshirt" over Adam Samburg's "I threw it on the Ground"
8. Tramp stamp: Just say no.
9. I would rather gouge out my eyes than walk around the mall on a Saturday afternoon.
10. I would rather take a nap than go out somedays.

So, what's the verdict?


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