My Nana is still a looker, even at eighty. Whenever I bathe her in the driveway, I'm always impressed by her sinewy physique. I'll be like "Nana you're ripped bro" and she'll be like "nothing but clean living and good genes" then I'll be like "clean living? You ain't been sober an entire day since Nixon was still on the teet" and she'll be like "you'd drink too if you had such a shitty family" and I'll be like "maybe if you didn't have so much side wang pop-pop wouldn't have moved to Reno" and she'll be like "he moved to Reno because Schenectady was getting overrun with Mexicans" and I'll be like "Nana that's racist" then she'll say "then why don't you move there." This goes on until I'm done hosing her off, at which point I take her back inside, but her in front of a TV playing Diagnosis: Murder reruns, and give her a box of wine with a straw. Old people need the routine.
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