I'm getting old.
It's gotten to the point that I'm afraid to fart because, you know, who knows what might come out of there. Hell, I'm even afraid to walk fast. My treadmill, if I had one, would be used as a pseudo Christmas tree - ornaments hanging from the handle and a white rug (with the phrase "Merry Christmas" written in spilled red wine) tossed over the bottom portion. I would even rather belch than risk a fart at this point. Where has all the fun gone?
I'm getting old.
I really like the smell of IcyHot. Kinda reminds me of Ben Gay and candy cigarettes. But for the love of God and all that is holy, do not rub Ben Gay on your ass and stuff a candy cigarette up your bunghole and then try to fart. Trust me on this one.
I'm getting old.
I make the old man noise when I get out of a chair. Sometimes I forget things like what day it is and that I'm not supposed to kill.
I'm getting old.
I like watching 60 Minutes. Andy Rooney makes some good points.
I'm getting old.
I have more hair in my nose and ears than on my head. I have a theory on that - Hair gets lazy as you get older and it can't quite make it to the top of your head so it stops in the nose and ears. I think I'll let my ear hair grow and use it as a comb-over.
I'm getting old. But I still like fart jokes. Did I tell you the one about the Ben Gay and candy cigarettes?
I did? I'm getting old.
9:07 PM - Time for Hot Pockets!
