My asshole neighbors had Waffles for breakfast. Bastards. I LOVED that cat
The Joy of Being Over 70
There are some unexpected joys about being on the other side of 70, for example...
Kidnappers aren't very interested in you.
In a hostage situation, you will probably be released first.
No one expects you to run into a burning building. Or run at all.
People call at 9 p.m. and ask, “Did I wake you?”
People no longer view you as a hypochondriac.
There’s nothing left to learn the hard way.
Things you buy now won’t wear out.
You can eat dinner at 4 p.m.
You enjoy hearing about other people’s operations.
You get into a heated argument about pension claims.
You have a party and the neighbors don’t even realize it.
You no longer think of speed limits as a challenge.
You quit trying to hold your stomach in, no matter who walks into the room.
You sing along with the elevator music.
Your eyes won’t get much worse.
Your investment in health insurance is finally beginning to pay off.
Your joints are more accurate meteorologists than the National Weather Service.
Your secrets are safe with your friends because they can’t remember them either.
Your supply of brain cells is finally down to a manageable size.
And you may not remember who sent you this list.
In the first year of marriage, the man speaks and the woman listens. In the second year, the woman speaks and the man listens. In the third year, they both speak and the neighbors listen.
The Loud Boots
A retired Army General moves into a new apartment after quitting service.
Over the next few weeks, his new neighbors realized that on the weekends he would return to his apartment at 2am very drunk, remove his left boot and slam it on the floor, remove his right boot and slam it on the floor even harder and then go to sleep. Since the force of these thunderous slams was enough to wake up almost everyone around him, and this was a family complex no less, the neighbors decided to go to his house and confront him about this one morning.
"Mr. General Sir, thank you for your service to our country, and we welcome you to our apartment complex."
"Sir, we realize that serving the country for so long can really take a toll on someone, and we want you to enjoy your retirement..."
"But, sir, can you please, kindly, not slam your boots down in the middle of the night once you return home on the weekends? It's waking us and our kids up."
"Oh! I didn't know that. I am sorry for waking all of you up like that, how stupid of me, it won't happen again."
"Thank you so much, sir."
The next weekend the General returns home drunk and sits on his bed. He removes his left boot and slams it on the floor. He removes his right boot and - "Wait a minute... this is what they were talking about, isn't it?" he says to himself in his drunken stupor. He gently places the right boot next to the left one and goes to bed.
An hour or so later the General wakes up to the sounds of the doorbell ringing continuously and heavy knocking on his door. He gets up, waddles over to the door and opens it to find a group of his neighbors standing outside in their nightclothes...
"SIR! Can you please just slam the other boot already so we can all get some sleep!!?"
My neighbors are listening to great music. Whether they like it or not.
Predictive Text Can Be Dangerous
The First Text Message
Dear John, this is Alan next door. I am sorry buddy, but I have a confession to make to you. I've been riddled with guilt these past few months and have been trying to pluck up the courage to tell you to your face, but I am at least now telling you in text as I can’t live with myself a moment longer without you knowing. The truth is, I have been sharing your wife, day and night when you're not around. In fact, probably more than you.
I haven’t been getting it at home recently, but that's no excuse I know. The temptation was just too much. I can no longer live with the guilt and I hope you will accept my sincerest apologies and forgive me. I promise that it won't happen again. Please come up with a fee for usage, and I'll pay you.
John, feeling insulted and betrayed, grabbed his gun, stomped next door and shot his neighbor dead. He returned home, poured himself a stiff drink and went out into the garden for some fresh air. He took out his phone where he saw he had a subsequent message from his neighbor.
The Second Text Message
This is Alan next door again. Sorry about the slight typo on my last text. I expect you worked it out anyway, but as I’m sure you noticed that my smart phone’s Autocorrect feature changed “Wi-Fi” to ˜Wife”. Technology hey?? Hope you saw the funny side of that.