Over the weekend I got carded for buying lottery tickets. Not even real lottery tickets. Dollar scratchers.
I went into the 7-11, mulled over the selection, and chose the two that weren’t Christmas-themed. The woman said, “Over 18, right?” to which I smiled and said, “Yes.” Because I am so clearly over 18. Then she said, “Do you have ID?” to which I said, “Um…it’s in the car…hang on.” At this point she’d already given me the tickets and I’d already paid for them in quarters. I got my license – the first one I grabbed (out of my two California licenses with different last names and one NY state ID) happened to be the old one with the hole punched in it, and I expected her to tell me she needed a valid one, but apparently not. I took my dollar scratchers and my 26-year-old self and left.
I would understand if I were getting carded for buying alcohol. Even cigarettes. But dollar scratchers?
I blame the woman at the place in the mall, where I went to get my bangs trimmed last Thursday. I’ve been doing them myself since July and they were getting a little raggedy. She said, “I remember you. To your eyebrows, right?” and I said yes, and then she spritzed the heck out of them and started trimming. By the time they were half-dry I knew they were too short and so did she. I still tipped her, but every day I’m checking to see if they’re getting longer. They are so not to my eyebrows. Even Drew said I look like a little kid, and I think the subtext (that he had the decency not to say) was that I look like a little boy. Oh well.
The good thing about bangs is that they grow fast. And from now on I’ll ask my friend Molly to do the trims I don’t just do myself (eyes crossed, in front of the mirror).
So I guess you could say I had an uneventful weekend.
The Cameraphone Diaries 