Did he mean me? First of all, I am no yuppie (young urban professional - the term is so old, it needs explaining again). I can't be a Yuppie since I am no longer young. Yes, I'm urban, but only peripherally professional.
The "Die Yuppie Scum" phrase has a history I needn't detail here. But this is cute. Anyway, because I'm so tragically self-centered, I thought he meant me, even though I am, technically, not young and only peripherally professional.
But how does he know me?
Does he know I'd just ordered a stainless steel range with convection oven, even though, in all likelihood, it will mostly be used to warm packaged food from Trader Joe's?
Does he know I was thinking of ordering this table from Crate and Barrel for the sole purpose of using it as a surface for the mixing of cocktails?
Does he know about my collections? The cows . . . ?
The Anglophiliac memorabilia?
The Victorian-era fern prints?
Does he know how I curse the too loud ranchera music, the overly-amped rap, the insistent ice cream truck tunes?
Does he know that I do NOT consider tagging an art form?
Does he know that I do NOT consider tagging an art form?
Does he know how much I wish for the demolition of the crappy Von's down the street that sells moldy bread and cheese, to make way for a Whole Foods or Trader Joe's?
Does he know the past reputation of this neighborhood and how if it had not changed so much in the past 10 years, if the gangs had just thrived, he probably wouldn't have the nerve to live here?
Probably not. He was probably just wearing a t-shirt.
