Editor's Note: Something Totally Different; Maybe the Funniest Post Ever...
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A Man's Age as Determined by a Trip to Home Depot
You are in the middle of some kind of project around the house- mowing the lawn, putting in a new fence, 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 the 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 Home Depot 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. And you went to school with the pretty girl running the register. She smiles and you and you leave with a muttered, "Hullo."
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. You give a big "Hello" while raising your eyebrows up and down. She smiles and then rolls her eyes at the cashier at the next station.
In your 40's:
Stop what you are doing. Put on 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 Home Depot. 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. You decide to talk to her to see if she thinks you're hot. She knows your daughter and says she remembers you when she was little.
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 dog doo-doo 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 Buddy's Bait & Beer Bar and it says, 'I Got Worms.' You hear a snicker when you walk out.
In your 60's:
Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat anymore. Hose the dog doo-doo off your shoes. You hope you have underwear on so nothing hangs out the hole in your pants. The girl running the register may be cute, but she's your granddaughter's age. You quickly take off your glasses and ask if they might know each other. You decide to talk to her for a long time about your granddaughter. She smiles, but it looks fake.
You are in the middle of some kind of project around the house- mowing the lawn, putting in a new fence, 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 the 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 Home Depot 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. And you went to school with the pretty girl running the register. She smiles and you and you leave with a muttered, "Hullo."
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. You give a big "Hello" while raising your eyebrows up and down. She smiles and then rolls her eyes at the cashier at the next station.
In your 40's:
Stop what you are doing. Put on 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 Home Depot. 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. You decide to talk to her to see if she thinks you're hot. She knows your daughter and says she remembers you when she was little.
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 dog doo-doo 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 Buddy's Bait & Beer Bar and it says, 'I Got Worms.' You hear a snicker when you walk out.
In your 60's:
Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat anymore. Hose the dog doo-doo off your shoes. You hope you have underwear on so nothing hangs out the hole in your pants. The girl running the register may be cute, but she's your granddaughter's age. You quickly take off your glasses and ask if they might know each other. You decide to talk to her for a long time about your granddaughter. She smiles, but it looks fake.
In your 70's:
Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Home Depot until the drug store has your prescriptions ready, too. Don't even notice the dog doo-doo on your shoes. The young thing at the register smiles at you because you have your shirt on inside out. You're just happy you remembered a shirt. You have no idea how old she is, but you don't care, she's definitely younger and you saw that smile. You chat her up, positive she finds you attractive.
In your 80's:
Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Now you remember you needed to go to Home Depot. Go to Wal-Mart instead and wander around trying to think what it is you are looking for. Fart out loud and you think someone called out your name. You went to school with the mother of the old lady who greeted you at the front door. You decide to talk to her. You have some interesting stories you're sure she would like to hear.
In your 90's & beyond :
What's a home deep hoe? Something for my garden?
Where am I? Who am I? Why am I reading this? Did I send it? Did you? Who farted?
Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Home Depot until the drug store has your prescriptions ready, too. Don't even notice the dog doo-doo on your shoes. The young thing at the register smiles at you because you have your shirt on inside out. You're just happy you remembered a shirt. You have no idea how old she is, but you don't care, she's definitely younger and you saw that smile. You chat her up, positive she finds you attractive.
In your 80's:
Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Now you remember you needed to go to Home Depot. Go to Wal-Mart instead and wander around trying to think what it is you are looking for. Fart out loud and you think someone called out your name. You went to school with the mother of the old lady who greeted you at the front door. You decide to talk to her. You have some interesting stories you're sure she would like to hear.
In your 90's & beyond :
What's a home deep hoe? Something for my garden?
Where am I? Who am I? Why am I reading this? Did I send it? Did you? Who farted?
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