Me: “How is that pizza place still in business?”
My Oldest, age 15: “Well, I like it.”
Me: “No, seriously, it’s horrible. Unless you enjoy eating overly garlicked grease drizzled over stale doughy crust.”
Oldest: “Exactly. It’s delicious.”
Me: “Consider yourself disowned.”
Oldest: “Maybe my new family will have better taste in pizza.”
So we’ve walked on the moon, and the Internet puts all the world at our fingertips, and credit cards now have more on-board memory than my first computer did.
Yet, my printer won’t print a black and white document because it’s out of yellow ink?
WORST INFORMATION AGE EVER.
(Eating at a BBQ restaurant)
Little Miss Thing, age 6: “Can we go now?”
Me: “I’m almost done.”
LMT: “You don’t have to eat all of it, you know.”
Me: “Yes… yes I do.”
Very Vocal Viking 