A friend shared this photo on Facebook the other day, a picture I hadn’t seen before. It’s me and three of my best high school friends in the long-haired fellow’s bedroom. Judging by my clothes and look, I was probably in university at this time.
I later lived with that cat and still have a scar on my right hand from it.
That photo was taken about 1990-ish and so twenty-seven years have passed. Now I’m much older but, sadly, no wiser. How old am I? This picture I made yesterday says it all.
I’m so old, I’ve finished a bottle of gravy browning yesterday and need to buy another. “What the devil is he talking about?” you ask. In Newfoundland there is a joke about how long a bottle of gravy browning lasts.
Man 1: Mrs. Jones is some old.
Man 2: Go on! She’s not dat old, is she?
Man 1: Old?! My son, she’s on ‘er second bottle a’ gravy browning!
I like the bottle. It’s old-timey and looks slightly medicinal. I just looked up some of the words on the label and discovered that its intended use is in yak-shik, a traditional sticky rice snack made with nuts and so on.
The writing on the label looks like something from fifty years ago, but I bought it in 2005.
Although the label says that the product is good for up to two years after the production date, I suspect caramel is something like black pepper. They put a date on it to keep the government happy but it actually never goes bad. I hope. Bad gravy browning might explain some of my problems . . . .
So, there you are. I’m now officially old according to the gravy browning scale. Will I get through a second bottle?