>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 20s: 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 30s: 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 40s: 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 Brut 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 50s: 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 Buddy's Bait & Beer Bar and
>it says, 'I Got Worms.'
>
>In your 60s: Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat anymore. Hose the
>dog shit off your shoes. The mirror was shattered when you were in your
>50s. You hope you have underwear on so nothing hangs out of 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 70s: Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Wal-Mart until they
>have your prescriptions ready, too. Don't even notice the dog shit on your
>shoes. The young thing at the register smiles at you because you remind her of her
>grandfather.
>
>In your 80s: Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Now you
>remember you needed to go to Wal-Mart.. Go to Wal-Mart 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 old lady who
>greeted you at the front door.