Sunday, March 16, 2008

Sunday Senior Sillies

Old Age is Nothing to Worry About Unless You’re Cheese

Today, just for a change of pace we will pay tribute to seniors. May we all live to become same. For most of the stories I thank my good friend Dr. Jerry. I’ve added a few from my own archives.

Just before the funeral services, the undertaker came up to the 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 simply replied, “No peer pressure.”

An elderly couple walked into a pharmacy. They asked, “Do you sell canes?” The pharmacist nodded in the affirmative. Walkers? Again in the affirmative. Dentures? Yes, Depends. Uh, huh. And on and on went the interrogation listing every conceivable product used by seniors. Finally the pharmacist asked why all the questions. They both smiled coyly and the gentleman said, “We’re planning to get married and are looking for a place to register."

I've sure gotten old! I've had two bypass surgeries, a hip replacement, new knees, fought prostate 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; 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 license.

I feel like my body has gotten totally out of shape, so I got my doctor's permission to join a fitness club and start exercising. I decided 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 is not as sharp as it used to be. My memory is not as sharp as it used to be.

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.”

Always Remember This: You don't stop laughing because you grow old, grow old because you stop laughing.

Finally, sorry if I missed anything but my memory is not as sharp as it used to be. My memory is not as sharp as it used to be.

A little blogging music Maestro... Vern Pullens, “Old Folks Home.”

Dr. Forgot

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