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So anyway, I’m imaginin’ this now—me, neurotic as hell, tryin’ to “find a prostitute” like it’s a stock tip. I’d overthink it—disease risks, legal crap, am I gettin’ scammed? I’d be yellin’ at my phone, “Gimme a sign, dammit!” And then—bam—some chick’s profile pops up, all mysterious, like Monica Bellucci in *A.I.*—and I’m like, “Whoa, too hot, abort mission!” I’d freak out, spill my coffee, total Larry David meltdown. “I can’t do this, I’m too old!”

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But then, I see this old lady selling the most amazing mochi. I mean, I’m talking melt-in-your-mouth goodness. I buy a couple, and suddenly, I’m on cloud nine. Happiness level: 100. I’m munching away, and it’s like the world’s problems just fade away.

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