I was in the store yesterday. In addition to food, I took a couple of beer for the dacha. Standing at the box office, the cashier is such a straight east aunt, snooping, with a strong accent:

Is there 18 years?

What is?

Are you drinking beer 18?

I’m 34 and I’m already big.

Why is it so thick?

So why rejoice?

"Listen, if I asked if I was 18, I would have been so happy all day long!