I Love Old People (But I Am Not One Of Them)

The other night, I went to Furr’s Cafeteria with my parents.  I love cafeterias because there are so many old people there.  Plus I love to watch people go back for third and fourth plates, piled high with fried shit and gravy.  I typically won’t eat for a day after a cafeteria visit.  Maybe an apple.  Or some CHEESE.  It always helps to visit one when my clothes are feeling a bit tight.

Anyway, since my mom discovered the internet the last couple years, she signs up for stuff.  (I am supposed to sign up at Furr’s site because she wants more coupons but that really isn’t a high priority now – I will wait until she starts bitching about it.  I wonder if she realizes I’ll actually have to be present to use the coupon, and I limit my cafeteria visits to about four a year, you know, after Major Eating Holidays.)  She had a coupon for buy-one-get-one-free, so the three of us head off to dinner at four-thirty.


I can’t say anything because I rarely eat dinner anymore, but I kinda felt like I was in a Seinfeld episode.

We get up to the cashier to pay for our dinners and I am standing off to the side, looking to see if there is anything I can make fun of when we sit down, and the cashier asks my mom, “So, three seniors?”

What. The. Fuck.  My head snapped around at her so fast I thought I might give myself a migraine.

Okay, so I’m not exactly a spring chicken, but this bitch takes excellent care of her skin and has for years.  I get carded for wine on a regular basis.

Me: Um, THREE seniors?  I’m not that young but I’m not a senior.

Dumbass And Most Likely Blind Cashier:  Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am.  I wasn’t looking at you.

First of all, I must be invisible, because I was standing right beside her.  Second, to make matters worse, she pulls out the “ma’am” card???  It was depressing.

I think I’m going to throw on a Hollister t-shirt, a pink ball cap and go get carded for booze.

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