The scene: I’m standing in line at Whole Foods, behind two Fashionable Young Ladies who are leafing through a magazine that I feel comfortable calling as close to a trashy celeb publication as Whole Foods will go. And note that while I have paraphrased, I did my best to reconstruct the exchange.
FYL No. 1: I hate the term baby daddy.
FYL No. 2: Why?
FYL No. 1: It’s just one of those words that if you’re not a teenager, you can’t say it without sounding like an idiot.
FYL No. 2: I say it.
FYL No. 1: You sound like an idiot.
FYL No. 2: Even if it makes you sound stupid to say baby daddy, you have to say it because it’s the easiest way to say, like, “the father of the child who maybe the mother isn’t married to.”
FYL No. 1: I never say it.So yeah, I’ll miss Brentwood.
FYL No. 2: So how do you say “the father of the child who maybe the mother isn’t married to”?
FYL No. 1: I just would never refer to those people. Ew.
The Brentwood Whole Foods, previously: