The Comedian

My Dad is one of those people that says exactly what's on his mind, as soon as it pops into his head. He has no filter and thinks the more inappropriate and socially unacceptable he is, the better. He also "doesn't believe in": sunscreen, driving the speed limit or being early to anything. As children, he would always make my brother and I get in and out of the car like speedy, miniature Nascar drivers and would then speed to our destination because "Veterans can drive 5 miles over the speed limit". [To this day I still get in and out of the car faster than anyone I know.]

Once, when I was about 13 years old, I managed to trick my dad into arriving at the movies a little early. I lied to him about the start time of the "show" (as he calls it) so we wouldn't miss the first 5 minutes like we always did. Big mistake on my part. Minutes after we took our seats, my Dad was standing and began making his way to the front of the theater. He stood in the front and announced to all the other movie-goers that he was going to entertain us until the movie started. By the middle of his little stand up comedy act, I had sunk down so far in my chair I was practically sitting on the floor. Then, to my horror, my Dad pointed right at me and introduced me to the entire theater full of people. Everyone turned in their seats to stare at me, the comedian's daughter. My Dad and I didn't go out in public for a while after that.

With experiences like that under his belt, I should have known better than to invite my Dad to Zumba. I really don't know what I was thinking. Let's just say the class began with him dressing like a gangster, sagging pants and all, and ended with him discussing the quality of instructer's butt.

I don't even know how we could possibly be related.

My Personal Heaven

I am obsessed with old people. Seriously, obsessed. I love everything about them: their wrinkly faces, the combed-over, white hair, and best of all, the vast array of multi-colored suspenders. Every time I see one of those shiny bald heads or saggy, age-spotted faces, I pretty much have to stop myself from breaking into a happy dance.

Recently, as luck would have it, I discovered the favorite meeting place of the old and wrinkly: Costco, on coupon day. I'm telling you, that place was crawling with white-haired people clutching coupons and meandering down the isles at the speed of snail. Discounts and dollar hot dogs draw in the old folks like you wouldn't believe. And shopping amongst them was like visiting my personal heaven. I even got the chance to take a few secret pictures. Those pictures, combined with the plethora of old people, pretty much made my whole year.

Rainbow suspenders?! Can I please keep him?

When we got to the food court area, I made sure to pick the table right in the middle of the old people action. Then this sweet old man smiled at me by the soda fountain and I almost died of happiness.

How can anyone resist these old, sagging faces and possibly toothless grins?! I know I sure can't. So next time you're at Costco, keep an eye out. Maybe you'll begin to understand what I'm talking about.

Until then, I'll be in the food court trying to make a new [old] friend.