Tonight, I am going out with colleagues to a hip and groovy place. Which means that the people who go to this place could easily be my children.
It is part-owned by Susan Sarandon (as a gift to her new arm candy). Susan is the only non-vampire that is ageless and gorgeous at 60+ years old.
Apparently, there are ping pong tables there. Like in a fraternity basement. Further indicium that I have aged out of this place.
Last time I played “pong” was beer pong in my sorority basement. Actually it was slam pong. My foot slipped on the mung beer stinking up the floor and I pulled my hamstring. The campus police had to drive me to my various classes for two weeks because I kept slipping on the ice and re-injuring my muscle. Imagine trying to go out frat-hoping and asking the campus police to drive you.
Ok, 25 years later, I am going to a place — where the bouncers will probably keep me out because of my gray hair — to play pong. I wonder if I will be able to finish that slam pong game that got interrupted by my fall so many years ago. . . .
More tomorrow, if I survive.