Attention: TDR Forum Junkies 
You are in the middle of some kind of project around the house.
Mowing the lawn, putting a new fence in, painting the living room, or
whatever. You are hot and sweaty. Covered in dirt or paint. You have
your old work clothes on. You know the outfit, shorts with the hole in
crotch, old t-shirt with a stain from who knows what, and an old pair of
tennis shoes.
Right in the middle of this great home improvement project you
realize you need to run to Wal-Mart to get something to help complete
the
job.
Depending on your age you might do the following:
In your 20's:
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
lane. You went to school with the pretty girl running the register.
In your 30's:
Stop what you are doing, put on clean shorts and shirt. Change
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 to someone you went to school
with.
In your 40's:
Stop what you are doing. Put 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 Brute Cologne is almost empty so
you don't want to waste any of it on a trip to Wal-Mart. Check yourself
in
the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing. The spicy young thing
running the register is your daughter's age and you feel weird thinking
she is spicy.
In your 50's:
Stop what you are doing. Put a hat on, wipe the dirt off your
hands onto your shirt. Change shoes because you don't want to get dirt
in
your new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror and you 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 your buddy's bait
shop
and it says, "I Got Worms ".
In your 60's:
Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat anymore. Hose off
the
dog crap off your shoes. The mirror was shattered when you were in your
50's. 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 are not sure.
In your 70's:
Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Wal-Mart until they
have
your prescriptions ready too. Don't even notice the dog crap on your
shoes. The young thing at the register smiles at you because you remind
her of her grandfather.
In your 80's:
Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Now
you
remember that you needed to go to Wal-Mart. Go to Wal-Mart and wonder
around trying to think what it is you are looking for. Fart out loud
and
you think someone called out your name. The old lady that greeted you
at
the front door went to school with you.
Mowing the lawn, putting a new fence in, painting the living room, or
whatever. You are hot and sweaty. Covered in dirt or paint. You have
your old work clothes on. You know the outfit, shorts with the hole in
crotch, old t-shirt with a stain from who knows what, and an old pair of
tennis shoes.
Right in the middle of this great home improvement project you
realize you need to run to Wal-Mart to get something to help complete
the
job.
Depending on your age you might do the following:
In your 20's:
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
lane. You went to school with the pretty girl running the register.
In your 30's:
Stop what you are doing, put on clean shorts and shirt. Change
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 to someone you went to school
with.
In your 40's:
Stop what you are doing. Put 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 Brute Cologne is almost empty so
you don't want to waste any of it on a trip to Wal-Mart. Check yourself
in
the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing. The spicy young thing
running the register is your daughter's age and you feel weird thinking
she is spicy.
In your 50's:
Stop what you are doing. Put a hat on, wipe the dirt off your
hands onto your shirt. Change shoes because you don't want to get dirt
in
your new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror and you 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 your buddy's bait
shop
and it says, "I Got Worms ".
In your 60's:
Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat anymore. Hose off
the
dog crap off your shoes. The mirror was shattered when you were in your
50's. 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 are not sure.
In your 70's:
Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Wal-Mart until they
have
your prescriptions ready too. Don't even notice the dog crap on your
shoes. The young thing at the register smiles at you because you remind
her of her grandfather.
In your 80's:
Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Now
you
remember that you needed to go to Wal-Mart. Go to Wal-Mart and wonder
around trying to think what it is you are looking for. Fart out loud
and
you think someone called out your name. The old lady that greeted you
at
the front door went to school with you.
