Fine. I am a curmudgeon.

At 29+ I find myself, surrounded by people who are fresh-faced, 20-somethings. Life's all bright and shiny and new. The recession, unemployment or HOLY SHIT BILLS have not yet taken a giant poop on their perfectly coiffed (you spent $300 on straightening?!?!) hair. I am not saying their stupid or shallow. Just ... TWENTY-SOMETHING. Most of them work hard, stay late and overindulge without a thought to calories. I did that once. We all did.

God that irks me now. Whatever. I am an Ensure away from calling them whippersnappers and shooing them away from my azaleas.

Occasionally one girl will come into work and my immediate thought is - "PANTS!" WEAR PANTS!" Tights are not pants people. Neither are sheer leggings.

What? I am judgy. The name of the site isn't "constantly joyous."

And why do they always want to go to dinner with 15 people? Seriously.

My max for group eating out is 6. Three facing three allows for good whole-table conversation or simple break out conversations. You only have to bug one person AT MOST to get up to pee. You can split two bottles of wine comfortably without paying through the nose or getting an inch of wine for $18. Bill calculation is far easier. Plus, your server is nicer & more attentive since your bill will be larger but your party is totally manageable. Everyone wins.

Also, there's a good chance that everyone at the table of 6 gets along and generally likes each other. MAYBE you can swing that with 8. But with 15? N-O.

Case in point: the lovely 20-somethings who want to "Do a girls dinner! Friday nite!" When I was approached I thought - why not? As a washed-up wife, hanging out with single girls can be fun. Especially when you come home to your sleeping husband and think I never have to do that dating bullshit again. Don't be fooled people. Marriage is knowing you will have sex even if you haven't shaved your legs in 2 weeks.

Then I got the email of "the plan." Fifteen people on the email (a few of whom I would not choose as a dining partner) for dinner at 8 so as to "not be in da clubs so early."

Sigh.

I declined after 20 more emails went out, one of which mentioned seeing some band at a sticky bar around midnight with some sort of cover charge. Instead, I am going to see a delicious one-year old toddler and her mom for free. Because I will be in bed by midnight or at least in my Target sweats watching What Not to Wear.

Now get away from my azaleas and help me find my glasses. My stories are on.