If A Teenager Falls Over From a Club to the Head and No One's Around to Hear, Does She Really Make a Noise?

I am dead convinced that teenagers are like overgrown toddlers.  They throw tantrums, stomp their feet, and expect the world to revolve around them...just like toddlers.

So here's the scenario:

A teenager in my household that we'll call "Alyssa" (just for shits and giggles) gets a phone call from a friend.  Ironically, she doesn't even know WHICH friend is calling her and has a five minute conversation with her thinking that she's someone else.  She gets asked to a birthday party and asks if she can go.  Here's the conversation....

ALYSSA:  Can I go to her birthday party?

ME:  Who's HER?

ALYSSA:  Melody, I think....(to person on phone) Wait, who is this? (pause then speaking back to me) It's Autumn.

ME:  Yes, you can go to her party.  When is it?

ALYSSA:  (to Autumn) When is it? (to me) On a Sunday at 1:00

ME:  Which Sunday?  This Sunday, next Sunday, Sunday at the end of time......

ALYSSA:  (to Autumn) This Sunday?  (pause; still speaking to Autumn) Like the Sunday coming up?

Let me pause and tell you how agitated I was, at this point, not only that my daughter was NOT using ANY sort of phone etiquette, but also that this conversation seemed to be like talking to the dancing zebra with the rainbow afro wig on from Madagascar.  You know the one....Da da da da da da da da CIRCUS da da da da da da da da AFRO, CIRCUS, AFRO, CIRCUS, AFRO, POLKA DOT, POLKA DOT, POLKA DOT, AFRO!  But I digress....

ALYSSA:  (to me) Sunday the 7th

ME:  Okay, yes.  I have a photo shoot that day but I'm pretty sure I can arrange it.  What time?

ALYSSA: (to Autumn) What time? (pause) 1:00?  (to me) 1:00-3:00

ME:  Where is it?

ALYSSA:  (to Autumn) Where is it? (pause) 1....4.......6......5.....off of Wadsworth and.....Wait can you just tell my parents instead?

ME:  NO!!!  You get the information.  You're plenty old enough to get it yourself.....

ALYSSA: (to me; whining) But I can't remember all of it!

ME:  Get a piece of paper and write it down!

Now this is the point where my frustration flew over the top.  She rolled her eyes, sighed loud enough for the neighbors down the street to hear and then stomped....yes STOMPED across the room to make a dramatic event of it.  Are you kidding me?  Needless to say, there were words exchanged (because even though I love my daughter, that touchy-feely "I need to talk about everything instead of letting you know you're acting like a butthole" parenting is not my style).  After she writes down the information and gets off the phone, she's like my daughter again:  calm, happy-go-lucky...and then I have to speak to the person whom the demon was just exorcised from....

I don't care if you're the Queen, you do NOT speak to me like that.  You're perfectly capable of writing down information.  You're old enough to babysit, you're old enough to take care of this.  This will be the LAST time you do that to me.

Sadly, it won't though.  She'll continue it because she's a teenager.  It's like when your loved one is transformed into a zombie...you don't WANT them to be a zombie but the damage is done.  There's no turning back.  The best you can do is contain it and give it boundaries and hope that someday it starts to act human again.

Until then, anyone up for a cocktail on a deserted island?  Anyone?