Something happened this week that made me wonder if I’ve begun to get old, if I’ve lost touch with the “in” crowd.
I guess if I have to ask it’s probably too late.
You see, I’ve been on my way to a premature style demise for a while now. Some years ago I decided skinny jeans are the most ridiculous fashion fad to be regurgitated from the bowels of history. And I refuse to allow my 5-year-old son, Spencer, to wear his baseball cap in any direction other than the right one. But something in a wire news story Monday sealed my fate.
”Twerking, what’s that?” I asked.
”It’s a dance move,” replied another Record-Eagle editor before he explained that Miley Cyrus made a fool of herself “twerking” Sunday night on stage on national TV.
The fact that I had to learn about the revamped form of butt jiggling from a man twice my age is bad enough, but once I Googled and watched the video, I realized I’m way out of my depth.
Note how I used Google properly as a verb in the context above. Surely that’s got to count for something, right?
Somehow, I find little reassurance in my stellar Google usage, and even less as the instant replay of the awards show scrolled across my computer screen.
Cyrus, who was in third grade when I graduated high school, shed most of her clothing save beige underwear and began to perform a song and dance that seems more appropriate for the stage of a strip club than a televised music awards show.
Immediately, I launched into one of those “back in my day” rants in my head. A few words into a mental tirade about how, when Will Smith still was rapping they just called it “booty shaking,” I stopped.