It's me in 60 years. I love this woman. She's hilarious! And understands the beauty of the sentence fragment. (Somewhere on the "Maverick my ass" post is my little comment -- basically it's what I just said. Hey, they can't all be brilliant.)
Earlier today, I was having an idle moment (I must have been peeing -- those are the only idle moments I get to have at work. Perhaps that and not the arid conditions of our office is what makes me drink nonstop throughout my entire shift) and wondered how much I'll change as time goes on. Is it true? Does your mind narrow and your waistline expand? That's a terrifying thought. I mean, my waist is already expanded. I'll be composed of shapes not found in nature if that happens. But will I lose my sense of humor? Will I suddenly become conservative?
I kind of doubt it. My mother calls people "abortion survivors." This could be the screaming child interrupting our conversation or McCain slowly dying in one of his campaign ads. My grandmother tells penis jokes. I'm pretty sure it's in our DNA.
But it gives me a strange sense of calm hope to know that we are not alone in our delightfully profane ways. Plus, it's just funny to read an 82-year-old woman calling John McCain an asswipe. You know, 60 years before I'm the one doing it.