Angie spent the night with me on Friday night, and man, how things have changed since we were teenagers.

First, we were way too excited about it. When we were teenagers it was just a given that on one weekend night or another I'd be sleeping next to Angie. The only difference was whether she'd be sleeping at my house or I'd be sleeping at hers. Secondly, we're old enough to drink now and we didn't....because Angie's pregnant. And even if she wasn't, I don't even know if we'd thought about it. I remember in Jr. High, early high school, trying to score alcohol off some older friends. The first time I ever got drunk was at Angie's house, off a shared bottle of Boonesfarm we'd chipped in together to buy. (unless Angie's mom ever reads this, then I made that up)

Another thing, there were no possibilities of sneaking out. Why would we sneak out through a window or tiptoe out the back door when we could just walk through the front? Who's car would we try to steal? Ours? Where would we go, Broad Street? Look how old I am! We used to try to steal her mom's car to go to Broad Street for god's sake! Where do kids go now? See? I don't even KNOW where they go. My only interest in knowing would be so I wouldn't accidentally go there because teenagers en masse are kinda cute but annoying. (the last place I saw a bunch of teenagers hanging out causing chaos was out at the Piggly Wiggly parking lot in Hokes Bluff. Really? So like, are there calls on Saturday afternoon that start out like "Oh my GOD, you should have been at The Pig last night...)

And what did we watch? Horror movies that would scare us like the old days? Nah, we watched That 70's Show and the first disk of Veronica Mars. Did we stay up all night? Nope, we were in bed by 11pm. Did we lay there and gossip about boys? No... this is what we talked about.

Me: My pajama pants are twisted

Angie: I hate that!

Me: Me too! The seams are in the right place but they're twisted, I can feel it!

Angie: That's why I got these, they're thin and when I roll over they just move with me.

Me: Oh I need some like that.

Angie: Yeah, they're great.

Me: Plus, cause it's summer, it'll get hot. I hate getting hot.

Angie: God, me too.

Me: We're so old, we're talking about pajama pants.

Angie: Well it's important.

Me: I'm not buying any. If I go out for the search for just the right pajama pants, it will officially make me old. That's what old people do! They go out to different stores and look and find just the right ones.

Angie: Oh, you know you'll go shopping for some.

Me: I will not, I am *not* doing that. If I find some I'll buy them but I'm not actively seeking the pjs.

Angie: Well you'll end up sleeping without them then, and then what if your house catches on fire?

Me: *starts laughing*

Angie: I'm serious! If I take mine off I know exactly where they are, so if the house catches on fire I can grab them.

Me: *still laughing*

Angie: You'll feel funny when you don't know where yours are and you need them.

Me: I just take 'em off and shove them down in the covers in my sleep.

Angie: *pauses to consider* See, that won't work. House'll be on fire and what will you be doing? Digging in the covers for your pants.

Me: *laughing*

Angie: You'll see! Standing out on your lawn in just a t-shirt wishing you'd listened to me, but nooooOOoooOOOoo...

Me: We're old.

Angie: So?

There seriously needs to be some sort of spend-the-night party with nothing but mischief, hootch, uninvited boys sneaking over, and ghost stories. And SOMEONE is calling a boy and hanging up on him when he answers. In fact, that should be my 30th birthday party.

Aging gracefully my ass!