Sharon bases her mean-people-live-longer theory on years of scientific research, plus a deep-seated fear that her bitchy mother-in-law will outlive everyone, out of spite. We went on to examine our own prospects for longevity. Rachel proudly announced, "I'll be living a very long time." Everyone nodded in agreement. Working our way backwards from death, our next stop was burial plots. Turns out, Sharon and Judy want to be neighbors for eternity, and recently trekked to a big cemetery in Simi Valley to hear the sales pitch and admire the lovely view. "We'll be very happy out there," Judy said. "This conversation is bringing me down," I said. Peggy concurred. "Can we change the subject to something else? Like Charlie Sheen? The whole winning thing?" No, we weren't done yet. Sharon and Judy spent the next few minutes trying to recruit Lucy, the birthday girl, to buy a plot next to them. Eternity-wise, Lucy decided Simi Valley was too much of schlep. She'd rather be somewhere more convenient, like Beverly Hills. "What about us? Don't we get an invite?" I asked. Sharon and Judy exchanged looks. "We'll get back to you." But something tells me they won't. The SJG is fine with that. A little hurt, maybe, but I'll live. By the time the bill came, we'd covered every horribly depressing topic you can think of it, from walkers and broken hips to missing teeth and the changing of our various body parts. Oh, and why we can't remember anything for sh*t these days. "I meant to take two Aleve before I came here," I said, "but I have no idea if I did or not." Sharon rolled her eyes. "Two more won't kill you." I haven't laughed so hard in ages. And we never even got around to Charlie Sheen.
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