The Opt Out Options
Me: Am I allowed to do Jason Bateman?
Him: That depends. Who do I get to do?
Me: I don’t know, who do you want?
Him: Maybe Maggie Gyllenhaal. Or Margaret Thatcher.
Me: What, no Dame Maggie Smith?
Him: Already did her. It was like boning a mummy.
Me: Really? I would’ve guessed her feisty.
Him: You’d think. If she were conscious or alive, that is.
Me: Now Judi Dench: there’s a hellcat.
Him: When she takes out her teeth, man.
Me: BARELY LEGAL GRANNIES!
Him: EXTREMELY LEGAL GRANNIES!
Me: You and the oldies! It’s worse than you and the C.H.U.D.S.!
Him: What can I say? I love me some ancient flesh.
Me: It’s a wonder you can bear my smooth young skin.
Him: You’re okay I guess.
Me: Thanks, baby.
Him: So who’s your opt out?
Me: I’m still deciding. Maybe my opt out will be someone who’ll appreciate my youthful assets.
Him: Walter Matthau?
Him: Don Rickles?
Him: Bill Cosby?
Me: Hmm, warmer!
Him: Wesley Snipes?
Me: Dude, what is it with you and Wesley Snipes? That’s like the second time you’ve brought him up in the past week.
Him: I dunno; I feel like I could trust him.