Ah, being young is beautiful,
but being old is comfortable.
First you forget names,
then you forget faces..
Then you forget to pull up your zipper…
it’s worse when
you forget to pull it down.
Two guys, one old, one young,
are pushing their carts around Wal-Mart
when they collide.
The old guy says to the young guy,
“Sorry about that. I’m looking for my wife,
and I guess I wasn’t paying attention
to where I was going.”
The young guy says, “That’s OK, it’s a coincidence.
I’m looking for my wife, too….
I can’t find her and I’m getting a little desperate.”
The old guy says, “Well,
maybe I can help you find her…
what does she look like?”
The young guy says,
“Well, she is 27 yrs. old, tall,
with red hair,
blue eyes, is buxom…wearing no bra,
and is wearing short shorts.
What does your wife look like?’
To which the old guy says, Doesn’t matter,
— let’s look for yours.”
(And this final one especially for me,)
keep Your arm around my shoulder
and Your hand over my mouth!”
My mouth is shut, but my fingers are surely allowed to be busy.
Here’s another one of my credos. When any little old lady shows any interest in me, I run like hell (a tortoise knows how to do that), while checking to see that I have my passport in my pocket. Survival is peace!