Post by JR on Aug 13, 2014 18:04:26 GMT -6
You are in the middle of some home projects: putting in a new fence, painting the porch, planting some flowers and fixing a broken door lock. You are hot and sweaty, covered with dirt, lawn clippings and paint. You have your old work clothes on. You know the outfit -- shorts with a hole in the crotch, an old T-shirt with a stain from who-knows-what, and an old pair of tennis shoes.
Right in the middle of these tasks you realize that you need to run to Home Depot for supplies.
Depending on your age you might do the following:
In your 20s:
Stop what you are doing. Shave, take a shower, blow dry your hair, brush your teeth, floss and put on clean clothes.
Check yourself in the mirror and flex. Add a dab of your favorite cologne because, you never know, you just might meet some hot chick while standing in the checkout line.
And yes, you went to school with the pretty girl running the register.
In your 30s:
Stop what you are doing, put on clean shorts and shirt. Change your shoes. You married the hot chick so no need for much else.
Wash your hands and comb your hair. Check yourself in the mirror. Still got it! Add a shot of your favorite cologne to cover the smell.
The cute girl running the register is the kid sister of someone you went to school with.
In your 40s:
Stop what you are doing. Put on a sweatshirt that is long enough to cover the hole in the crotch of your shorts.
Put on different shoes and a hat. Wash your hands. Your bottle of Brut is almost empty, so don't waste any of it on a trip to Home Depot.
Check yourself in the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing.
The hot young thing running the register is your daughter's age and you feel weird about thinking she's spicy.
In your 50s:
Stop what you are doing. Put on a hat. Wipe the dirt off your hands onto your shirt. Change shoes because you don't want to get dog crap in your new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror and swear not to wear that shirt anymore because it makes you look fat.
The cutie running the register smiles when she sees you coming and you think you still have it. Then you remember -- the hat you have on is from Bubba's Bait & Beer Bar and it says, 'I Got Worms '
In your 60s:
Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat any more. Hose the dog crap off your shoes. The mirror was shattered when you were in your 50s.
You hope you have underwear on so nothing hangs out the hole in your pants.
The girl running the register may be cute but you don't have your glasses on, so you're not sure.
In your 70s:
Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Home Depot until you call the drug store to have your prescriptions ready for pick too and check your grocery list for a quick stop there. Got to save trips! Don't even notice the dog crap on your shoes.
The young thing at the register stares at you and you realize your balls are hanging out the hole in your crotch… who cares.
In your 80s:
Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Now you remember you need to go to Home Depot. You go to Wal-Mart instead. You went to school with the old lady greeter.
You wander around trying to remember what you are looking for. Then you fart out loud and turn around thinking someone called your name.
In your 90s & beyond:
What's a home deep hoe? Something for my garden? Where am I? Who am I? Why am I reading this?
Did I send it? Did you? Who farted?
Right in the middle of these tasks you realize that you need to run to Home Depot for supplies.
Depending on your age you might do the following:
In your 20s:
Stop what you are doing. Shave, take a shower, blow dry your hair, brush your teeth, floss and put on clean clothes.
Check yourself in the mirror and flex. Add a dab of your favorite cologne because, you never know, you just might meet some hot chick while standing in the checkout line.
And yes, you went to school with the pretty girl running the register.
In your 30s:
Stop what you are doing, put on clean shorts and shirt. Change your shoes. You married the hot chick so no need for much else.
Wash your hands and comb your hair. Check yourself in the mirror. Still got it! Add a shot of your favorite cologne to cover the smell.
The cute girl running the register is the kid sister of someone you went to school with.
In your 40s:
Stop what you are doing. Put on a sweatshirt that is long enough to cover the hole in the crotch of your shorts.
Put on different shoes and a hat. Wash your hands. Your bottle of Brut is almost empty, so don't waste any of it on a trip to Home Depot.
Check yourself in the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing.
The hot young thing running the register is your daughter's age and you feel weird about thinking she's spicy.
In your 50s:
Stop what you are doing. Put on a hat. Wipe the dirt off your hands onto your shirt. Change shoes because you don't want to get dog crap in your new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror and swear not to wear that shirt anymore because it makes you look fat.
The cutie running the register smiles when she sees you coming and you think you still have it. Then you remember -- the hat you have on is from Bubba's Bait & Beer Bar and it says, 'I Got Worms '
In your 60s:
Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat any more. Hose the dog crap off your shoes. The mirror was shattered when you were in your 50s.
You hope you have underwear on so nothing hangs out the hole in your pants.
The girl running the register may be cute but you don't have your glasses on, so you're not sure.
In your 70s:
Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Home Depot until you call the drug store to have your prescriptions ready for pick too and check your grocery list for a quick stop there. Got to save trips! Don't even notice the dog crap on your shoes.
The young thing at the register stares at you and you realize your balls are hanging out the hole in your crotch… who cares.
In your 80s:
Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Now you remember you need to go to Home Depot. You go to Wal-Mart instead. You went to school with the old lady greeter.
You wander around trying to remember what you are looking for. Then you fart out loud and turn around thinking someone called your name.
In your 90s & beyond:
What's a home deep hoe? Something for my garden? Where am I? Who am I? Why am I reading this?
Did I send it? Did you? Who farted?
