There is a joke at my bar that my boyfriend, since I don't have one, is the 94 year old man, named Greg, that comes into the bar.
He actually just turned 94 in November.
And before last week he was driving and drinking vodka and water. But sadly on Friday I found out that he is in the nursing home because he had broken a couple bones in his foot and he cant take care of himself.
I hope he gets better. He always brightens my day when I come into work. And hes suppose to out live us all.
