Who's Molly and does she have a sister?

My slip into irrelevancy has picked up pace somewhere along the way. I'm figuring around the start of the skinny jean fad (hope it is at least) and the knit skull cap in the middle of July phenomenal. The other day I asked a group of young adults (that I'm somewhat stuck with, I'll explain later) exactly what a, "molly" was, only to be shot with an ice grill with a smidgen of utter disgust. They, (the hip, as I've come to refer to them, as if they're some 'ubber' class of citizens that only appear when a H&M has a sale) explained that molly is a new recreational drug that apparently is all the rave nowadays. I of course have no interest in Mrs. Molly, especially when the last joint I smoked (yes I did call it a joint) had me wondering if the dragon I noticed sitting on my night stand, was sporting a gold tooth. Don't get me wrong, I don't measure my relevancy with knowing new trends that are mucking about with the younger hordes as of late, nor do I blame them. Full disclosure, my slip from being in the know is completely my fault. I'm not becoming unaware more and more everyday out of since of ornery pride, I just can't keep up. Once understanding exits stage left, all kinds of inadequacies creep in with an unforgiving warmth. The plight of a our elders becomes more prevalent each day, to our much deserved chagrin and right on time I might add. Moral of the story is that every generation will fell this emotional inapplicability at some point or another, act accordingly. I personally measure wins against this war on the inconsequential by the number of times I fit in a new pair of size 34, Express Rocco jeans from the hipster collection. Pick your victory...AC

Excuse me, I don't think this is my floor....

Not sure this is my floor. I mean sure, I'm here, I get that fact. It's just somehow I think, I know, I'm on the wrong floor. I'd ask the young lady in front of me for assistance but she seems so preoccupied. No one is really talking to each other on this floor. On my floor everyone talked and actually had engaging conversations. No one seems to notice anyone on this floor, how silly they all are. They all collectively seem to be gazing into their mini portable thingamabobs, how bizarre. Really, is that how the converse on this floor? Oh, that's so silly. Miss, could you please hit the perspective number for my floor? My floor absolutely has more to offer then this dreadful floor which clearly offers me no mental stimulation whatsoever. This is absurd, Miss, oh could you please hit that button and relieve me of this dreadful nightmare? I mean it's like they've all have become mindless nomadic creatures lured (quite easily I might add) by these shiny contraption they seem to all grip furiously in their hands. On my floor we actually look at one another when we speak, how rude they are on this floor. Oh goodness, does this lady even hear me with that foolish plastic tumor attached to her ear. Miss, miss, could you be a dear and press that button right there to return me back to my floor where manners and attentiveness still matter. What's that you say? No, no, no that's impossible. No one told me of any construction when I left my floor...