It’s that time of year when people take summer holidays. It’s the time of year that we love to loaf a little. It’s the time of year that we just like to sit back and relax. It is the time of year when doin’ nothin’ appears more appealing. It’s the time of year when writers are often faced with a blank piece of paper and a deadline hovering over their head. It is the time of year when writers sit there hot and sweaty with a thinker that won’t thunk. This is one of those times.
It is at times like this that I delve into my chuckle bucket and see what I can come up with. So here, through the magic of e-mail, are the chuckles I so did find, which did not escape me.
Just before the funeral services, the undertaker came up to a very elderly widow and asked, “How old was your husband?”
“98,” she replied “Two years older than me.”
“So you’re 96,” the undertaker commented.
She responded, “Hardly worth going home, is it?”
Reporters interviewing a 104-year-old woman: “And what do you think is the best thing about being 104?” the reporter asked. She replied, “No peer pressure.”
The nice thing about being senile is you can hide your own Easter eggs.
I’ve sure got old. I’ve had two bypass surgeries, a hip replacement, new knees. Fought prostrate cancer and diabetes. I’m half blind, can’t hear anything quieter than a jet engine, take 40 different medications that make me dizzy, winded, and subject to blackouts. Have bouts with dementia. Have poor circulation; and can hardly feel my hands and feet anymore. Can’t remember if I’m 85 or 92. Have lost all my friends. But, thank God, I still have my driver’s licence.
I feel like my body has got totally out of shape, so I got my doctor’s permission to join a fitness club and start exercising. I decide to take an aerobics class for seniors. I bent, twisted, gyrated, jumped up and down, and perspired for an hour. But, by the time I got my leotards on, the class was over.
An elderly woman decided to prepare her will and told her preacher she had two final requests. First, she wanted to be cremated, and second, she wanted her ashes scattered over Wal-Mart.
“Wal-Mart?” the preacher exclaimed. “Why Wal-Mart?”
“Then I’ll be sure my daughters visit me twice a week.”
My memory’s not as sharp as it used to be. Also, my memory’s not as sharp as it used to be.
Know how to prevent sagging? Just eat till the wrinkles fill out.
It’s scary when you start making the same noises as your coffee maker.
These days about half the stuff in my shopping cart says, “For Fast Relief.”
Remember: You don’t stop laughing because you grow old. You grow old because you stop laughing.
The Senility Prayer:
Grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway, the good fortune to run into the ones I do, and the eyesight to tell the difference.
So there you have it folks, but let me add also a prayer of my own: “May you live as long as you want to, and may you want to as long as you live.” Take care, ’cause we care.