"Snake in a Bucket"...and Other Adventures in the Continuing Saga of Life With a 17-Year Old Female

Snake in a Bucket

I tell ya, kids get up to the nastiest things these days!

Let me just preface this by letting you know this is NOT for the squeamish! Or for the prudish. Or for anyone prone to fits of morally righteous indignation. Ok, you’ve been warned.

Most of you know that Meg got her first job here in Maine working for a local cinema. She thought it would be her dream job. All the free movies you can watch and popcorn and soda you can gorge yourself on. Ok so maybe she didn’t count on the boredom factor but that doesn’t stop her from having a good time. She’s excited that she got to bust someone for bringing beer into the theatre. When others didn’t want to bust the girl who snuck the booze in, Meg stepped up and said; “I’ll do it!” Atta girl! Well, maybe not. It’s not like I want her getting busted over the head with a beer or booze bottle when someone gets pissed off at her that they can't indulge in the theatre.  Anyways she thought that was pretty cool that she got to do that last night, her first night on the job.

I get to the theatre tonight to pick her up and she asks me (I was so not prepared for this) if I know what “snake in the bucket” is. Silly me, here I am thinking they had some sort of terrorist threat at the cinema tonight with some lunatic trying to sneak poisonous snakes into the movies. I was ready to tell her she was quitting ASAP and screw giving notice! “Snake in a bucket” has nothing remotely to do with reptiles or terrorists! I don’t even know if I can bring myself to articulate what it is! I am going bright red just remembering that it was my daughter, of all people, who had to explain it to me.

Maybe all I’ll have to do is mention TEENAGE BOYS and you’ll get the picture? No? Ok, if I must describe it, I’ll try to do it without dying of humiliation.

Picture a big ole bucket of popcorn. After the movies the cleaning crews come through the theatre (i.e.; my daughter and her co-workers) to tidy up for the next showing and they find popcorn buckets on the floor, however some buckets have holes in the bottom of them. Are you getting the picture now? Please please don’t make me go into any more detail. No? You’re still a little fuzzy, not quite clear as to what I’m getting at?

Ok, this outta make things crystal clear. Think horny male teenagers! Yuck!!!!! Think sticky popcorn. DOUBLE YUCK! I will never be able to sit through another movie without making sure that there are no teenagers of the male persuasion anywhere near me.

You're How Old?

We leave the cinema tonight after picking Meg up after work and I have to head over to the store real quick to pick up a few things that can’t wait until the morning. I decided to grab some beer. Normally I’m not fond of the stuff, but I do enjoy a low-carb ale now and then…ok, I’m a sissy. It’s pretty weak and more like a beer seltzer and that’s exactly why I like it. It’s not like drinking carbonated hay!  I ‘spose it could have been Meg telling me about busting the girl with the booze that planted the seed.

We get to the checkout counter and even though it’s quite clear that I am the one paying, the checker asks Meg for ID. I was like, “pardon? I’m the one buying the beer, here’s my ID, that’s my daughter and no this isn’t for her!” So the checker tells me that it doesn’t matter, that it’s the law and Meg looks “of age” and being that I don’t look old enough to have a daughter that old (I swear, those were her exact words! Ask Meg if you don’t believe me) that they need to see her ID. So of course Meg has no ID with her with a photograph on it, so the store manager is called. *Cue annoyed sighs and grunts from the growing line behind me.*

Mr. Manager steps forward and makes a big show of looking Meg and I up and down and then asks me for my ID and asks Meg for hers. He asks how old Meg is and I tell him that she’s 17 and I’ve just picked her up from work and we just stopped in for a few things.  At this point I’m turning bright red because those “few things” mostly consisted of, *ahem* girly stuff, if you’re getting my drift, and the beer.  I’m sure the manager is deciding to choose his words very carefully as it appears he could be dealing with a PMS’ing female. He asks me when she’s going to be 18 because there is no way I could have a daughter that old (ok come on already, that line is getting OLDDDDD) and then Meg, child of my loins, daughter of my heart pipes up and says; “it’s cool, she’s almost 50!” To which I reply; “Meaghan Ashlee you are so dead they’re gonna have to bury you TWICE!” And we trade barbs back and forth for a minute or two.

The manager hands my ID back to me and looks at the checker and says; “Let ‘em go, that sounds like mother/daughter banter to me.”

To add insult injury, the checker smiles reassuringly at me and chirps up; "It's ok hun, there are lots of young moms out there."  Others might have been flattered, I was not. I just wanted to pay for my beer and girly stuff and get the hell out of there!

Oi! It’s bad enough to be interrogated like that, but to have my very own daughter age me by almost 12 years, in public no less…well, I tell you, there is just no justice in this world! That’s ok though…when she least expects it I’ll have something up my sleeve. You just wait my pretty, you just wait!