I like the way this works.
Because I'm a lot older than most of the diners who frequent this place, I get to sound like Methuselah. In the rare occurrence when a patron is of a more... wrinkled vintage, I get to say 'fuck man, how the hell old are you?' Okay. So that's the premise. Let's play.
When I was your age, girls and boys had separate entrances at school. In many cases, there were separate playgrounds, as well. Teachers came outside and rang a hand bell to signal the start of the day and the end of recess.
When I was your age, parents claimed the right -- and often acted on the inclination -- to slap their kids into next week. Questions were seldom asked. And if they were, it was usually of the 'You and the missus goin' to the pig roast on Saturday?' variety.
When I was your age, I thought love conquered all; or was all you need; or would rain o'er me. (Add your own song lyrics here.) I realize now that love will get you only so far. For the long haul, arthritis medications and bladder-control diapers is where it's at.
So... how the fuck old are you?
1 month ago