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bookend
12th January 2015, 09:50 PM
A Man's Age -- as Determined by a Trip to Bunnings

You are in the middle of some kind of project around the house --.
Mowing the lawn, putting in a new fence, painting the living room or whatever.
You are hot and sweaty, covered in dust, lawn clippings, dirt or 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 this great home improvement project you realize you
need to run to Bunnings to get something to help complete the job.

Depending on your age you might do the following:

In your 20's:
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 favourite cologne because you never know, you just might meet some hot chick while standing in the checkout lane. And you went to school with the pretty girl running the register.

In your 30's:
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 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 40's:
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 Cologne is almost empty so you don't want to waste any of it on a trip to Bunnings
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 thinking she is spicy.

In your 50's:
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 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 Gold Coast's Bait & Beer Bar and it says, 'I Got Worms.'

In your 60's:
Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat anymore.
Hose the dog crap off your shoes. The mirror was shattered when you were in your 50's.
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 are not sure.

In your 70's:
Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Bunnings until the Chemist 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 80's:
Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again.
Now you remember you need to go to Bunnings. Go to K-Mart instead 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.

In your 90's & beyond:
What's a bundings ? Something for my garden?
Where am I? Who am I? Why am I reading this?
Did I send it? Did you? Who farted?

Larks
12th January 2015, 10:25 PM
I guess I must be in my 60's....(not my 50's as I'd thought:-)

bookend
12th January 2015, 11:34 PM
I'm in my forties, match the 60's and missed the sportscar.

Tonyz
16th January 2015, 09:25 AM
I dont even visit buggies... hate the organisation/business, feel sorry for the staff, etc Last time I went inside their place was 1997

If I cant buy it at local Home hardware or they cant get it for me, I google/ebay whatever but not that B word place.

A Duke
16th January 2015, 10:58 AM
Hi,
Close but not quite there. I find the problem is not a hole but cheep zippers that will not stay up because they do not latch or have lost their leaver in the washing machine.
(wonder where they are manufactured?)
Regards