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WAL MART

>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.
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