A Trip to Home Depot

It has been a busy 10 days in Riley World. 14 years of school and we are almost done. Yes…when I think about it too much I freak out. So instead, when not Candy Crushing, I have opted to stay offline for the most part. It is a coping mechanism that works for me.

A friend sent this in an email and it gave me a good chuckle so I decided what better time for another #FridayFunny post. It serves two purposes. One...I am posting something and two...I get to make fun of spread the humour amongst the male population because I am an equal opportunity blogger. You’re welcome. 

Hope this starts your weekend off with a smile too!

A MAN'S AGE, AS DETERMINED BY A TRIP TO HOME DEPOT 

You are in the middle of a few projects at your home: putting in a new fence, painting the basement walls, putting in a new garden. You are hot and sweaty, covered in dust, lawn clippings, dirt and 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 these projects you realize you need to run to Home Depot for supplies.

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 line.

And yes, 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 your 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 favourite 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 Brute is almost empty, so don't waste any of it on a trip to Home Depot. Check yourself in the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing.

The hot young thing running the register is your daughter's age and you feel weird about thinking she's spicy.

In your 50s:
Stop what you are doing. Put on a hat. Wipe the dirt off your hands onto your shirt. Change shoes because you don't want to get dog crap in your new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror and 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 Bubba's Bait & Beer Bar and it says, 'I Got Worms '

In your 60s:
Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat any more. Hose the dog crap off your shoes. The mirror was shattered when you were in your 50s. You hope you have underwear on so nothing hangs out the hole in your pants.

The girl running the register may be cute but you don't have your glasses on, so you're not sure.

In your 70s:
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 crap on your shoes.

The young thing at the register stares at you and you realize your balls are hanging out the hole in your crotch.

In your 80s:
Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Now you remember you need to go to Home Depot. Go to Wal-Mart instead. You went to school with the old lady greeter.

You wander around trying to remember what you are looking for. Then you fart out loud and think someone called your name.

In your 90s & 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?

TGIF!!!

PS  In case you missed it...my first #FridayFunny post was a diary of a women’s week at the gym with a personal trainer.

A Woman's Week at the Gym...

Since this past Wednesday I have been working at a job out of the house. I know! For the next 2 weeks. Full time. Blogging, Twitter and FB time has and will be significantly reduced. You are disappointed I know but these things happen. You will be OK. 

During this brief work stint I will do my best to keep you informed on any earth-shaking news in Riley World or else just pass along humorous and trivial information. So as not to disappoint let's get started with the latter.   

Although I have never had the opportunity to have a session with a personal trainer I somehow think this is how it would turn out for me too. 

Dear Diary,

For my birthday this year, my husband purchased a week of personal training at the local health club.

Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.

I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear.

Friends seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

MONDAY:

Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Christo waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god-- with blond hair, dancing eyes, and a dazzling white smile.  Woo Hoo!!

Christo gave me a tour and showed me the machines... I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!

Christo was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time he was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!

TUESDAY:

I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door.

Christo made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then he put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile.  His rewarding smile made it
all worthwhile. I feel GREAT!  It's a whole new life for me.

WEDNESDAY:

The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it.  I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals.  Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.

Christo was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.

My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Christo put me on the stair monster. Why would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?  Christo told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life.  He said some other crap too.

THURSDAY:

Butt hole was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl.  I couldn't help being a half an hour late -- it took me that long to tie my shoes.

He took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny witch to find me.

Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.

FRIDAY:

I hate Christo more than any human being has ever hated any other in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic, little aerobic instructor.  If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.

Christo wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps!  And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the darn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.

The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher.  Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?

SATURDAY:

Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing his voice made me want to smash the machine with my planner; however, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.

SUNDAY:

I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my husband will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root canal or a hysterectomy.

I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds!

Hope you enjoyed my first #FridayFunny courtesy of our Fairy Godmother!   

Have a great weekend everyone!!!