Her: "Happy Birthday... you're thir...!"
Me: Holds up a hand. "Don't even say it. I'm 29 and 2 halves."
Her: Looks perplexed as her logical mind tries to find an argument to refute my claim. "Ok, but then I have no wrinkles *and* you admit to a gray hair."
Me: Sighs. "Do I get chocolate cake?"
Her: "Of course."
Me: "It's a deal, Beelzebub."
"Beware of the young doctor and the old barber." -- Benjamin Franklin
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