Today's funny

jon f mn

Well-known Member
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Sounds like old age. Thought middle age was when you bought that sports car and started chasing young girls again.
 
This is usually called 'Threshold Syndrome' where as you pass through a threshold (doorway to another room, etc) and once on the other side forget why you went there. Now that the government is starting to acknowledge it, scientists theorize that the cause is due to space aliens hiding in that other room (or around a corner, etc) that, once discovered, erase your memory so as to remain undetected.
 
(quoted from post at 06:47:57 06/30/21) They're on your head.....

Why we never think to check there first is a mystery.

I was chatting with a guy at a wedding we attended a few years ago and he told me about his trip to get to the wedding.

He had stopped for fuel on the way and visited the bathroom at the same time, he recalled taking off his glasses to wash his face but didn't realize his glasses were missing until he was about 30 miles down the highway.

He turned around and drove back to the gas station but unfortunately his glasses were no longer on the counter.

He continued on to where the wedding reception was being held, when he got there he walked over to the coat rack to hang up his jacket and cap, as soon as he took his cap off his glasses that had been on his cap the whole time went flying across the floor.

Myself I grab a hat on the way out the door and as I am trying to put it on is when I usually realize my glasses are sitting on top of my head.
 
I lost my glasses last Saturday. Searched for an hour. Gave up and drove to town. Got out of the truck, there's something in the side of my shoe. Lift my trouser leg, it's my glasses.
 
Middle age is when you sit down to analyze your life and come to the conclusion you have not come close to being where you thought you would be financially.

Now I am 70. Today I was helping my daughter-in-law and granddaughters pitch broken bales out of the horse barn and into the loader to be hauled to and dumped into a wagon. One granddaughter was running the loader and the other granddaughter and I were pitching the hay. Never in my wildest dreams did I think someday I would be pitching hay into a loader driven by my granddaughter. She is a barrel racer so of course her horses get only the best hay. The old hay goes to the neighbor's stock cows.
 
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