Pointless Gripe Special Edition: Hitting on a Baby Boomer

One of my customers tonight, probably 65 years old or more, was taken aback when I called her "honey".  She responded by claiming, "that's my husband over there" while pointing to a man who thinks denim is the greatest fabric of all time.  While they were leaving, the old man supposedly whispered something about me hitting on his wife, which makes me really, really wish a complaint is filed with corporate about me hitting on a baby boomer.  Nothing would show my disdain for THE MAN more than getting a complaint over me hoping to get into some granny panties.

You might be asking, "Why did you call an old lady honey?" and to that I say, "Of course I fucking didn't".   I asked her, "Would you like anything else?".  How she got "honey" out of that is something only old people with limited hearing know, or possibly Dementia.  Plus, I think my girlfriend might have something to say about me hitting on a woman who probably remembers watching the moon landing on TV. 

Besides, if I was going to hit on an old lady who remembers the Cuban Missile Crisis, I would be a little more discreet about it.  I have some class, thank you very much.  I'd probably go to some weird old person dating site and create myself a profile (assuming they know what the Internet is).  But what would a woman born in the 1950's look for in a man....

Profile Name:  JFKlikeBONER6969

Age:  29.

Height: Patriotic American.

Weight:  Ideal Muscle Type.

Sign:  Leo (Rawwwr).

Hobbies:  Hiding under desks during nuclear war drills and being confused about modern technology. 

 

 

Turn-ons:  Cold War, McCarthyism, segregation and pregnant women who spend all day baking me a pie in the kitchen.

 

Turn-offs:  Communism, Ho Chi Minh, Negroes, Orientals, Mexicans (basically anybody who isn't white because that's why we fought the Krauts) and Womens rights (because I'm sexist too).

 

Pick-up Line:  I want to draft you into the military (of my heart).

 

What I'm looking for in a lover:  I want somebody who remembers the "good ole days" when presidents were white, women couldn't vote, and gays didn't exist.  I want you to want 7, maybe 8 children, a white picket fence made out of American wood instead of that shitty Australian wood, and for you to remember your place because I am the man of the house.

 

If you're interested, how to contact me:  Preferably by telegraph.  This site says "E-mail" (???) is best but I don't know what that is.  I think it means "European Mail" but my father didn't fight the Japs to let them run my mail.  And don't be like these young kids who keep telling me, "Japan isn't in Europe" because I know it is, right next to Canada.  

Disclaimer:  This article is VERY satirical and I'm sure not every old person is racist, sexist, and poor with Geography.

Follow on Twitter, like the blog on Facebook, or contact me at robothookerparty@comcast.net.  Unless you're an old person than don't.  Then again, that probably all looked like gibberish anyway.