So I roll up to the checkout lane of the local Super Target and the checker is a little cutie of a kid. Now, I say kid, but he could have been anywhere from... 18-25. I suck at ages. Anyway, I start unloading my cart and he says, "Where are you going tonight looking all cute?"

Please note that I am wearing my standard weekend fare of jeans and a concert tee. I dried my hair, but that was it and I'm wearing some pretty ridonk giant plastic barrettes.

I say, "Having some friends over for a little party."

"What do I have to do to get an invite to your party?"

I had to pause a second because this? DOES NOT HAPPEN TO ME. "Well, we're all old, so it's going to be a boring party."

He looks me over. "You're not old."

"I'm thirty-five."

"No way!"

"That's what my mom tells me."

"Well, damn, girl. You are a fine thirty-five."

"Thanks."

"So what are you doing at your 'old' party tonight?"

"Having some snacks, a couple of drinks, and watching Sharktopus on SyFy."

"Shoot. You're sure you're thirty-five? I still wanna be your little thing at the party."

"Heh. Thanks."

And I was out.

WTAF, people?