A Single Headline Which Demonstrates How OLD I Have Become

Here’s how bad it has gotten for Calico: She can’t even peruse sex-related headline in the news without being reminded of how old she is. From reading celebrity names which she mistakes for racial epithets to hearing pop culture references to sequels of reboots of movies she never even saw in their original release, it’s worse than trying to keep up with her young niece’s slang. No matter where she turns, the reminders are all around her: She has finally become her mother, at least where being disconnected from what’s cool — including, possibly, the fact it’s no longer cool to use the word cool.

Read all about it in Calico’s latest post “A Single Headline Which Demonstrates How OLD I Have Become” …

by Calico Rudasill, Sssh.com Porn For Women

When I was a (shitty, smartass, disrespectful) teenager, I used to laugh at how out of touch my parents and other members of their generation were.

They didn’t know who any of the cool bands were, they hadn’t seen any of the good movies which were in theaters, their sense of fashion was stuck in the 60s and when they tried to speak to me in the same slang used by me and my friends, the only thing they managed to communicate was their cluelessness – which immediately translated into my embarrassment.

Now, as much as I loathe admitting it, I have become them.

Every time I spend more than 10 seconds around my nieces, I’m overwhelmed by how lame I clearly seem to them – something which is underlined, for that matter, by the fact I still use the word lame.

It’s not just hanging around younger people which makes me feel (or maybe “realize” would be the more accurate word here) old, of course. Hell, thanks to the internet and wireless technology, I can feel ancient without even leaving my couch!

In A Sense, I’m Relieved To Learn “Young Thug” Is Someone’s Name…

In my most recent flash of instant old-feeling, the source was not one of my young relatives, but a headline which I ran across while indulging in the simple guilty pleasure of searching the news for sex-related stories with which to amuse myself.

Sandwiched in between results pointing me toward Slate asking whether ice dancing pairs get better scores if they’re also sex partners and some Russian lunatic seriously suggesting having sex with seven different partners prior to having their first child automatically renders women infertile (a theory at which I’d love tdo hear any number of impregnated sex workers laugh their asses off), my eye was caught by the following eyebrow-raiser: “Young Thug changes his name to Sex.”

Understandably, for the pop culture-ignorant person I have become, my initial reaction to this headline was to think “what did this guy do to deserve being called a ‘young thug’?” rather than “Just ‘Sex,’ no last name? What, like he’s fucking Prince, or something?”

Given the often racially-charged nature of “thug” as a descriptor, I’ll admit I was rather relieved to learn the headline was about a fellow who had chosen to call himself Young Thug, not some random guy who had changed his name to Sex and who Page Six just took it upon themselves to term a thug, just because they’re dicks like that.

…But “Call Me Sex” Sounds Like A Terrible Title For A Porn Flick

Sadly, the Page Six article about Young Thug’s name change doesn’t reveal any more detail about the reason for, or goal of, his name-change than did the tweet in which he made the announcement. I do note, however, that in the original tweet, his name is rendered in all caps: “I’m changing my name to SEX…”

At any rate, I can only imagine his new moniker is going to make for some awkward introductions, like the following hypothetical, in which SEX’s friend John is trying to introduce his pal formerly known as Young Thug to a woman named Jane:

John: Hey Jane, I’d like you meet my friend… uh…. well, he used to be called Youn–

SEX (interrupting John and extending his hand): Good to meet you Jane; you can call me SEX!!

Jane (slowly moving backwards and pointedly NOT shaking SEX’s hand before finally running away): Uh, OK then. Pleased to meet you… Sex, was it? Um, yeah. Oh sorry, but I just remembered I gotta go meet my friend to… to… uh… Bye!

I suppose it’s just another indication of how old I am, but to me, You Can Call Me Sex sounds like a terribly out of date porn parody movie satirizing a certain spaghetti western.

See what I mean? Not only am I pop-culture-ancient, but my references are even older!

As my niece would say… Oh, who am I kidding? I have no clue what she’d say.