This weekend, besides being all a-flutter over positive B-bot spoilers, I dragged my friend Tess to see Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. I love that movie. I'm pretty sure I want to be Michelle Yo when I grow up.

Before the movie, we went to the mall, where I bought some new clothes (yay!) and spent the Bath & Body Works gift certificate Tess gave me for my birthday. Got lots of vanilla scented foamy bath & lotiony goodness there. As for the clothes, I got me some Black Leather Pants of Pure Evil! Well, actually, they're more like the Black Pleather Pants of Bad Attitude and No Income, but they still look pretty bitchin' on.

Anyway. It was a night for confrontations and other weirdness, apparantly. When we were shopping, these teenage girls got into it with the sales clerk, accusing her of ratial profiling (the girls were black, and in the sales clerk's defense, so was she, and the girls were really very snotty to her right from the get-go). I was in the back of the store so I didn't actually witness it, but Tess got to be right in the middle of it, as the girls kept pointing at her and asking why the sales clerk didn't keep asking her if she needed help. The funny thing is that Tess actually did need help and was about to ask for it when the blow-up started. Security was called at some point, and the sales associates tried to get Tess to lodge a formal complaint so that they could have the girls banned from the store, but Tess would have none of it.

Then on our way to the movie theater, I turned a corner and the car in front of me just stopped on the corner, with no warning, making me slam on my brakes and not giving me enough room to get completely out of the intersection. I thought she stopped because this teenage boy, who looked to be pretty strung out, was walking across the street and looked like he might walk out in front of her, but instead he walked up to her, she rolled down her window, and they proceeded to chat. So I honked my horn as I pulled around them. As soon as I did so, the boy freaked out and started running after me, flipping me off (a gesture which, I'm ashamed to say, I returned out of sheer reflex) and screaming for me to "f*** off you f***ing motherf***er! F*** you!" all the while chasing my car down the street on foot. Nice vocabulary the boy has there. I guess I'm just glad it didn't occur to him to jump in his friend's car and chase us that way.

You know, there are definite exceptions to this rule, but for the most part, teenagers piss me off. Yes, I know, I'm officially old now, thank you.