I am a Seenager. I have everything that I wanted as a teenager, only 60 years later.
I don’t have to go to school or work.
I get an allowance every month.
I have my own pad.
I don’t have a curfew.
I have a driver’s license and my own car.
The people I hang around with are not scared of getting pregnant.
And I don’t have acne.
Life is great.
I didn’t make it to the gym today. That makes five years in a row.
I decided to stop calling the bathroom the “John” and renamed it the “Jim”.
I feel so much better saying I went to the Jim this morning.
Old age is coming at a really bad time.
When I was a child I thought “Nap Time” was a punishment. Now, as a grownup, it feels like a small vacation.
The biggest lie I tell myself is.”I don’t need to write that down, I’ll remember it.”
I don’t have grey hair; I have “wisdom highlights.”
Last year I joined a support group for procrastinators. We haven’t met yet.
Why do I have to press one for English when you’re just going to transfer me to someone I can’t understand anyway?
Of course I talk to myself; sometimes I need expert advice.
At my age “Getting lucky” means walking into a room and remembering what I came in there for.
(Copied from email; author unknown)