(The boy climbs into the car)
Me: “We’re just going into town to pick up some things. Why did you run back into the house?”
Danger Monkey, age 9: “I almost forgot my dice. I have a special pocket in my fleece just for my dice bag and some pencils in case anyone ever wants to play D&D.”
Me: … (sniff)
DM: “Daddy, are you crying?”
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.
Very Vocal Viking 