The Twelve Year Old Chronicles

Another tale to add to the books

Last Friday night I went out. (Shocking, I know)

But before I actually got to the out part I was put in my 12 year old little girl place by the man with the most power in all the land - the bar bouncer.
Those guys think they could run the world I tell ya.
And hey, if they had a solid healthcare plan to sell to today's society maybe they actually could.
But this is about me being a child not about Obamacare.

I digress...

So we're walking up to this tiny little bar at about 9pm.
This is extremely early to be going out in NYC.
There were about five drunkards total scattered along the bar.
No more no less.
The place was not bumpin', there was no line, and I'm not sure why I even wanted to go in there now that I think about it.

But anyway,
I get to the stoop outside the bar and see the almighty 6'5" beast.
He asks for ID's.
Of course, no problem. If I don't get ID'ed it's a strange strange thing.
I hand him my ID.

Beast man goes: "What's your zip code?"
Me: "You're joking me right?" You only ever get asked that question if you have a glaringly obvious fake.
Beast: Has a look of no you little shrimp I ain't jokin' wit ya.
Me: "Fine, 14886"
Beast: Grills my poor little ID with all he's got
Beast: Grills poor little me, staring me up and down, a look of perplexed confusion on his face.
Me: "Umm hello, what's the issue?"
Beast: "Well I know you're not 21 and this is definitely not you, but I'm feeling nice tonight so I'll let you in anyway."
Me: Currently freaking out, stomping my feet, a look of disgust plastered across my freshly make-upped face.
Me: "That's 100% me, it's my real freaking ID, I will be 23 in less than two weeks but thanks dude."
Large amounts of eye rolling took place, I side stepped the new President and quickly ordered myself a Blue Moon to ease the pain.

See this is where the 12 year old BS starts to irk my inner tator tot.
It's all fine and dandy that you think I look five years younger than I am.
One day I will surely appreciate it.
But if you're going to be dumb enough to start making accusations about me lying about my age, aaaahhhwww hell no.

Don't deny a twelve year old woman her beers.
Shitsticles will hit the fansticles and I'll want to punch you in the testicles.
There I said it.
Rampage over.
Back to my sweet little five year old self.