(grunt) Hey. See some ID?
Sorry, but I didn’t bring it with me tonight.
Need to see some ID.
Yeah, I know. But I totally forgot my license on my kitchen counter. I mean, you don’t even know how crazy it was before I left tonight. Had to get the boys ready for bed, pack some lunches for tomorrow, feed the cat who’s not eating her usual Friskies and is now demanding that we feed her cold cuts from the deli…and, excuse me, but what’s up with that? Stupid cat’s eating our mortgage in gourmet poultry. Please. Anyway, it was a complete madhouse at home, so is it OK if I just go inside the bar now?
Can’t let you in without some ID.
It’s flattering that you’re carding me, it really is, but come on. Take a look at me. See? See that? I’m wincing because the music is too loud. I’m carrying hand sanitizer in my purse. For the love of God, man, I’m wearing a stretchy, off-white t-shirt from CHICO’S. Clearly, I’m on the darkside of 21 here, OK?
Rules are rules. Gotta check everyone.
Alright, let’s play hardball. Look at my face. Right here. These are CROWS FEET. Yeah, as in “wrinkles that resemble the feet of ugly black birds.” And NOBODY under 21 has these babies. Trust me. No-body. Oh, and also–see these two parallel lines running right in between my eyebrows? These furrows that make it look like I have the 405 Freeway on my face? Total 40-year-old magic right there, dude. You can’t fake that shit.
Listen, I know what you’re thinking, Big Mike. You’re thinking “Why doesn’t she just shut up and get some damn Botox injections already?” And I hear you. I do. But Botox is just so expensive. Like I really want to pay $300 to put botulism in my face. Well, I kind of do want to pay that, but I can’t afford to. Besides, couldn’t I just go to a scummy grocery store, pick up a few bloated cans of soup, then open them up and stick them on my forehead to get the same result? Actually, that’s not such a bad idea, now that I think about it. I’m so going to Google that later. Do you think it’d be under “natural beauty tips” or “home remedies”? Maybe it’d be on Oprah.com. No, no, Dr. Oz probably wouldn’t be down with putting diseased tin cans on your skin, but then again…
Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.
What? What was that? What did you just call me?
Ah ha! You called me “ma’am”! That PROVES you know I’m over 21 and that you don’t really need to see my ID, rule or no rule. Score!
(long pause) If I let you go inside, will you leave me alone for the rest of the night?
Trust me. You won’t even know I’m here.
Somehow I doubt that, ma’am.
Yeah, Big Mike, so do I.