I just hung out with my grandmafor a week,
a week with an 88-year-old lady.
Whew, you run out of topics
to talk about quickly.
Just sitting therestaring at her like,
Crossword puzzles every day.
She drives.That's super dangerous.
We play gin rummy all the time.
Oh, she talks about death
with an easethat rattles my bones.
Holy [bleep], it's creepy.
It's like gang membersand my nana
talk about death the same way.
Like, "These streetsgonna take me out?
I ain't a littlemark-ass bitch."
And you're like,"All right, Nana, stop it.
Stop it, Nana."
You ever talk to anyoneover 80 about death?
It's just facts,
Closest I've ever cameto interviewing a serial killer.
Just sitting there like,
"Nana, what happenedto Rose next door?"
"Did she move?"
"You're never gonna find her."
"D-d-did you kill Rose?"
"Gin.""Oh, you sneaky bitch.
You're so goodat this game, Nana."
She does just kick the shitout of me in gin rummy
all the time.
It's pretty[bleep] embarrassing.