I love old guys. Not in a no-homo way or anything like that, but seriously, they've been around, you know? They've got great stories to tell.

As a bartender at a golf course, I get to talk to a lot of these old, retired guys on a regular basis. There's this one guy, I call him Wild Thing, who comes in by himself and polishes off nine 22oz. Bud drafts and then starts spouting ridiculous things to anyone within earshot. One time someone told a story about some sort of game they had played and Wild Thing looked up from the end of the bar through glassy eyes and said, "That reminds me of a game I used to play. Except it wasn't a game. We were in the war...fighiting all them Chinese people. Hahahaha" Okay, Wild Thing. Settle down.

Then there's two old guys who come in every weekend that remind me of Statler and Waldorf, the two Muppets who do "From the Balcony." It seems like they've known each other forever and all they do is rip on each other, its great. Here's an actual conversation they had once:

Statler: Get my man a Soco Manhattan. Don't forget his girly cherry. He cries if he doesn't have his cherry.
Waldorf: You know, I used to know a woman who could tie the stem of a cherry into a knot. With her tongue.
Statler: Yeah? Did she ever tie you dick into a knot with her tongue?
Waldorf: No. She couldn't handle my dick. Poor girl only had two hands!

Then they both started cracking up. It was awesome (I gave them each a drink on the house).

I've recently begun wondering what kind of old guy I'm going to be later in life. I don't know why. I think it might be because two weeks ago I had some friends come visit who are graduated and living in the real world (well, one of them, whom I will call X.F. Clownmanson, goes to law school in Miami. He sits by the pool listening to Bon Jovi and occasionally reading case briefs. He isn't in the real world), and we started talking about life and getting older. Clearly this was a conversation of the late-night, drunken variety.

Or maybe it was the story I read in the news recently about this British man who put out want ads for drinking buddies to take his aging father to the pub three times a week as drinking budies. I think he is paying them $14/hr plus expenses and drinking money. All they have to do is take this old guy out and drink (I don't know which is cooler, the old guy who requested this service or being one of the two guys who got hired). Either way, I've been thinking about it for some reason.

I'd like to think I'm going to be a cross between my actual grandfather, who was the man (his screensaver on his computer was a slideshow of hundreds of naked women. Truth.), Statler and Waldorf from the golf course bar, and the old guy in Waiting. Remember him? The guy who says something along the lines of, "being senile isn't so bad, I can give small children the finger and no one says anything to me!" I think that's how I'd like to end up. Mainly because I currently give small children the finger. I mean, I don't see myself stopping that habit anytime soon.

-Adam