Spit in my Eye With Alpha Phi

While waiting in a ridiculously long line at the Las Vegas Airport's Starbucks, I overheard the following conversation between two sorority sisters (I know they were sorority sisters because they looked like 13 year-old prostitutes; and the only pause in their discussion about which has more carbs-croissants or scones-was to swap rush stories. Look, it was a long line, okay!?):
A: (Taking her wallet out) I'm getting this!
B: NO! There's no way. I know you couldn't afford this trip, and I'm. . .
A: NO! You've paid for too much. . .
B: (Taking A by the shoulders, looking into her eyes, and exclaiming LOUDLY) Listen to me. It's my parents' money; IT DOESN'T MATTER.
Wow.
B loudly repeated that whole "it doesn't matter" line several times before A eventually shrugged, put her wallet away, and gathered extra snacks since she wasn't footing the bill after all.
Look, we all go through dumbass phases when we think our parents are retarded, have never felt the same feelings we're feeling, or owe us something. I can let that slide based on the age of these girls. But for Cripe's sake, have some degree of humility, of realization that you're surrounded by old people (old people who haven't had their coffee yet!) who certainly are NOT sympathetic to your fucktarded argument. (A bunch of us curmudgeons exchanged squinted "WTF?" looks.)
Reader, I'm begging you: If my kids ever remotely mirror these turdettes, please take me by the shoulders, look deep into my eyes, and spit right in my face. I'll get the message.