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Living Through A Pundamic.

 From the foremost comedian and all-star knowledge personality, Alexa

Why did the toothbrush cross the road?
(Check the end of the post)

Truly a fantastic demonstration of art, performance, and imagination.




This is what happens when I can't fall asleep.

Male rite of passage markers:


The baby becomes a child.


No longer in need of a diaper.

Can piss in the pot and hit the target most of the time.

Poops in the pot.


Attend school with girls.

 

Not sure of the difference yet.


All-day school.


Figures out quickly that girls are more intelligent.


Middle school.


Finds out girls are really a lot smarter

Can’t figure out why girls are bigger than they are.


Highschool.


Parents start putting pressure on boys to succeed.

They keep talking about being a doctor, lawyer or financial genius.

They remind you how much money athletes make.


Drivers license.


The bedroom is on wheels.


Graduation from High School.


Enlist in the military, enter college, technical school, invent something like Facebook or get a fucking job.

Emancipation from the family

Figuring out how to pay for your entertainment budget. Beer, etc.

You realize there are people you have to live with that are worse than your brothers and sisters.


Mating.


You meet the one that won’t give in on less you put a ring on her finger.

End of the first marriage.

It was nothing like either of you thought it would be.

There’s a fork in this road. Kids or no kids.

Accepting limitations.


Your thirties.


Your eighteen handicap signals you won’t make a living playing professional golf.

You work for a family-held business because they told you that you will become part of the family. 

Then you find they were lying unless you married a blood relative.

Your thirties.

Guys’ night out dissolves in a rapid outbreak of parenthood.

Age-appropriate women are gone from the social scene unless they are;

  1. Uncommitted lesbians.
  2. Divorced with children.
  3. Women who are lying about their age.
  4. Career women who don’t have time for a committed relationship.

This situation is a constant topic of family dinners and suggestions from your mother on prospects you should consider.


Meeting the next ‘one.’


You finally give in and marry the girl your mother picked out for you.

You remarry the first wife who has children from her second marriage.


Your forties.


You talk yourself into believing that you could play professional golf if you work at it.

Your excuse for not making it on the PGA tour is the pontoon boat you bought.

You spend a lot of time telling your kids that just because you smoked, drank and had premarital sex doesn’t mean they can.

You give in and join Weight Watchers. An unexpected benefit. You are almost the only guy going to meetings, and the gals think you're cute.

It works, and you lose weight, or it doesn’t. 


Your fifties.


You find yourself attracted to younger women, and you think they reciprocate it until you realize they have daddy issues.

You practice your golf game more after considering the potential jail sentences for acting on these feelings.

Your dedication requires you to sell the pontoon boat.

Family life becomes going to more of your children's activities than you ever thought possible.

You swear off your professional golf dreams.

You notice your wife is looking older

You notice you are looking older

You dip into your 401 retirement account to buy a yacht.


Your sixties.


You accept that if you lose two inches off your waist, it will not make you any happier.

Social Security and Medicare don’t seem like a bad idea after all.

You sell the yacht to pay for your daughter's wedding.

You look forward and face that you’ve been using the kids as a buffer between you and your wife, and they are moving out.


Your seventies.


Your doctor tells you that you don’t have to have any more colonoscopies.

You shave your head because it’s cheaper than paying a barber to trim the little of your hair that's left.


Your eighties.


Your wife complains that you're not hitting the pot, and she’s sick of cleaning up after you.

You’re trying to convince yourself that the spots on your pants are because of the water splashed from the sink when you wash your hands.


Your nineties


You're back in diapers again.


The Answer to the Question

Why did the toothbrush cross the road?

For a change of paste.









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