So, in my last post I was all excited about getting carded for buying beer.

Well, I went to dinner the other night and noticed an AARP discount had been applied to my bill.  I'm not complaining, I mean, I'll take a discount any time.  But I didn't ask for it or show my card or anything.  I guess my age just radiated all over the restaurant.

The other day I stopped by the store to pick up milk (which ended up as a whole cart full of crap).  I also decided to buy some beer.  I pretty much NEVER buy beer; I lost the taste for it back in my 20s when I drank enough to fill a small sea and gained a similar amount of weight.  I now drink wine, which I'm kind of tired of.

In any case, my life has been pretty stressful lately, and I'm cutting back on going out drinking, so I thought perhaps a nice cold brewsky at the end of the day while I watched TV might perk me up.

So the cashier is ringing me up and asks for my ID.  At first I"m all like, "aww, aren't you sweet."  And she looks at me like, "you want this beer bitch; cough up that ID."   

Since I know they just check a cutoff date (as opposed to figuring out your age), I admitted to my 51 years.  I thought she'd be all, "wow, you look so young!"  Or, "we have to card under 40 now."  But no, she continued to look at me as if I was trying to pull something over on her.

Mind you, she was little more than a fetus.  And I had no makeup on, since I was just on a quick store run.  I will admit that without makeup on I do look a lot younger.  I also look HIDEOUS.  This is why I give up some youthfulness with a little makeup for a reduction in hideosity.  (I know that's not a word; I just like it).

Hmm, I wonder what else being young-looking-but-hideous can get me...

Okay, I'm in my home office working away (and by working, I mean cruising Facebook because I'm having a stress attack and need a break), and my cat Carter comes in and sets about meowing at me.  Constantly.  And loudly.

Usually this means the water bowl is empty, but I was just in the kitchen and noticed that they had plenty of water AND still a bit of the wet food they bugged the crap out of me for this morning.

He might want cuddles, but they don't ask for those; they just jump up and plop onto my keyboard, like, "I'm ready, start cuddling."

He doesn't look sick.  If he were, he wouldn't be crying, he'd be puking on my favorite shoes.

As I wrote this, he stopped screeching and has moved to Plan B: sitting on my expensive keyboard as if he's scoping out a spot to pee.  And licking the black keys, whatever that's about.

Okay, guess I've gotta go see what his deal is. Could be that someone unsavory is out front.  Or maybe Timmy is trapped in the well.  More than likely it's just that he can almost see the bottom of the food bowl.