Of cougars and nursing homes

I'd like to thank feature writer Cheryl Berzanskis for sending me spiraling into a bit of depression this afternoon. Here I was, minding my own business, about to start work on Friday's column when I picked up Cheryl's conversation from a couple of desks over.

You know what a cougar is, right? Not the cougar as in Disney's "Charlie the Lonesome Cougar" from the 1960s. But "Doris the Lonesome Cougar" from the 2000s.

A cougar is an older woman who "preys" on younger men. There's a reality TV show on TV Land called "The Cougar" that follows the same brain-dead formula as "The Bachelor" and may be the most asinine show on TV.

But I digress. Cheryl was at a wedding over the weekend where she heard the supposed formula for defining a cougar. It's half her age plus seven. In other words, a 40-year-old woman is a cougar if she's dating someone who's 27. That would be half her age plus seven.

So I turned it around. For the sake of argument, I'm pretending I'm single (my wife loves that argument). I'm 50. A woman would have to be 86 -- that's EIGHTY-SIX! -- to be a cougar for me. So if a woman's 85, she would fall into the acceptable normal dating range for me, according to this stupid formula.

Of course, it's the cougar hustling me, but what if I were interested. What kind of pick-up lines would I use?

"Is that your walker or are you just glad to see me?"

"People tell me when the light shines just right on my face, I look like Calvin Coolidge."

"Baby, just call me Dr. Prune Juice because I'll make you feel regular all over."

Thanks, Cheryl, it's a little after 4 p.m. right now. Think I'll head over to Furr's to scout out the talent in line for the Early Bird Special.