During my recent travels through California, we ended up in a surprisingly non pretentious cozy little bar in Santa Monica. It was there, perched at the bar sipping a 151 cocktail, that I met Reginald, a 62-year-old Marine Corps veteran who more than once told me exactly how long he served (something like 21 years, 3 months, and 28 days). He kept looking back towards the door, saying he was waiting for his 42-year-old fiance to arrive, a woman lucky enough to have the opportunity to become his fifth wife.
I was sipping on tall pints of Boddingtons, and Reginald was appalled that a man like me (I have no idea what kind of man I am) would be drinking beer. He said it would make my donger soft, but he could not produce any medical journals to back up these facts. He then boasted that he is still a red blooded stud and younger women can't keep up with him, and in an attempt to prove this, he got down on the floor and did 25 bare knuckle push-ups. I was convinced and ordered a 151.
After LSD, my lovely girlfriend, came over to say hello, he said to me, "Is that your queen? She is a thoroughbred! You have to hold onto that one!" I will agree. She is equal parts queen and thoroughbred, and I fully intend to hold onto her. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get on the floor for some knuckle push-ups so that I can be in as good of shape and as much of a gentleman as Reginald . . .