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When you learn your teen crushes, The Go-Gos, now range in age from 60 to 65.
And you know you’re old when you find them still plenty hot enough anyway.
When you learn your teen crushes, The Go-Gos, now range in age from 60 to 65.
Hallelujah! Preach it Brother!And you know you’re old when you find them still plenty hot enough anyway.
"Sex at the age of ninety, is like trying to shoot pool with a rope." ~ George BurnsHallelujah! Preach it Brother!
I did the same thing, but not over the back. Upon landing at a weird angle I went face first into the pavement. I staggered to the front porch, dripping blood the entire way from a nasty gash in my right eyebrow where my glasses disintegrated into my face.Been there. About 15 years ago I tried showing my kid's (in their early teens at the time) how to "pop a wheelie" on a Schwinn Sting-Ray bike I had just purchased to restore. Ended up on my ass in a blink of an eye. They thought it was hilarious...
I heard my grandparents music to the accompaniment of bubbles and an accent from the Alsace region of France.Hey, as a teen I knew and enjoyed my grandparents' music. Who *doesn't* love Billy Murray, Aileen Stanley, and the Peerless Quartet?
...
"My father told me all about the birds and the bees--the liar. I went steady with a woodpecker till I was twenty-one." ~ Bob Hope ...
That sounds like quite a nasty experience, at least you were coherent enough to collect your senses and take charge. Poor Amber, what must she have thought seeing Dad looking so battered.I did the same thing, but not over the back. Upon landing at a weird angle I went face first into the pavement. I staggered to the front porch, dripping blood the entire way from a nasty gash in my right eyebrow where my glasses disintegrated into my face.
My daughter, Amber, was shouting, "Call 911! Call 911!"
You never know with your children.That sounds like quite a nasty experience, at least you were coherent enough to collect your senses and take charge. Poor Amber, what must she have thought seeing Dad looking so battered.
Next time you see her, you can tell her that in the UK, the ambulance service crews have a name for those who drink themselves into a stupor, they call them PP's. Not meant to mock your unfortunate experience, PP means pavement pizza. My retired paramedic missus came home from a busy shift some years ago. "You look exhausted," I said, passing her a strong cup of tea. "We had three pavement pizzas," she replied, adding with a sigh, "Saturday nights!"
This probably deserves a new thread, but, upon sitting next to a young beauty at the bar, I asked to accompany her home. Why, she responded, you're old enough to be my father!
Quite possible, I said, what's your mother's name?
If only I had supplied the comeback earlier.Last year, while I watched a Cubs game inside a Van Buren Avenue 'Sox' bar in downtown Chicago,
several lovely ladies took seats at the bar before inexplicably launching an engagement ring discussion.
One particularly lovely lass turned to me and complained that her boyfriend of three years had seemingly
lost interest in her, and hadn't bestowed either proposal or engagement ring; so, what advice would I offer?
(This type of scenario has never occurred prior to, or afterwards at this locale, or any other establishment
within the Chicago city limits-at least by my experience) So I simply said, "three strikes and he's out, Miss."
And this fetching colleen looked at me and remarked I was old enough to be her father, I didn't know anything,
and ought to keep my opinions to myself.
When you can not more find any youthful fun in car driving.
A few weeks back I witnessed a young fellow on a motorcycle pulling a wheelie right through an intersection of two well-travelled roads. No helmet.
I was young once, and considerably more bulletproof than I am today. But I was never *that* bulletproof.
Mountain roads, at night.I’ll never be that old. Heavy traffic is no fun, but out here in the wide-open spaces of the western U.S. lengthy car trips never lose their appeal to me.
...
Balls.
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