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Questions with no good answers. Got any of your own?
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Questions with no good answers. Got any of your own?

  • At what point, exactly, did I stop looking cute upon waking up?
  • Where did this other cowlick come from?
  • Are my lips deflating?
  • Is my nose expanding?
  • Are the above two things related?
  • What the hell are these little red bumps that keep appearing on my, well, all over the place? (No joke: WTF?)*
  • Per the skin above my knees, am I turning into an alligator?
  • Really, neck?
  • Why this single stiff dark hair that I can only glimpse with head contortions in the mirror but that is fully visible to the UPS delivery guy?
  • Speaking of which: Why can’t I see shit? I used to be able to see shit.
  • When did my adorable freckles become so uneven and tragic?
  • Gum recession, why are you a thing?
  • Can anyone else see my (albeit faint) mustache? Or are you all just as blind as I suddenly am? (Here’s hoping!)
  • Are my ear lobes sagging? Because my ear piercings seem to have stretched into slots big enough for a bus token. If they still had those.
  • How does an hourglass become a pear in 5 years or less?
  • Is the above why I can’t keep a hula hoop going anymore?
  • What happens if you cut off a skin tab with cuticle scissors? Asking for a friend.

Found at The Last Word On Nothing | Asking the Big Questions

Comments on this entry are closed.

  • OneGuy March 5, 2020, 8:19 AM

    The answer to all of these question: Sonobello

  • Jean March 5, 2020, 8:27 AM

    Worth many chuckles and a few sad sighs.

  • jwm March 5, 2020, 8:35 AM

    Simple. It’s all a conspiracy.
    Oh, and evil spirits.

    JWM

  • BillH March 5, 2020, 8:45 AM

    I don’t know, but the appearance of those things correlates with the number of prescription meds you take for hypertension, hyper (or hypo) thyroid, macular degeneration, kidney disease, enlarged prostate (if you’re a boy)….

  • Bunny March 5, 2020, 9:01 AM

    Turtlenecks and long sleeves. In summer.

  • CC March 5, 2020, 9:31 AM

    About those skin tags; you can cut them off with cuticle scissors, but be prepared to cauterize the spot; they bleed like mad.
    And may grow back.

  • Mike Anderson March 5, 2020, 11:15 AM

    What the hell was I doing before I went to the kitchen? Oh, and why am I in the kitchen, anyway?

  • James ONeil March 5, 2020, 11:19 AM

    On the other hand, as I age and my sight blurs a bit, it no longer take a six pack to turn a four into a ten.

    I know, I know, a totally inappropriate comment in today’s world.

  • Vanderleun March 5, 2020, 11:22 AM

    This is your safe space, James.

    On my refrigerator is a sign that says, “Too late. Already here. Choose wisely.”

  • Lance de Boyle March 5, 2020, 11:30 AM

    On what day was it that my knees said, “Sit the fuck back down, Buster. You ain’t ‘going for a walk'”?

  • jwm March 5, 2020, 12:42 PM

    Yeah. We’re gettin’ old.
    becomes
    What do you mean, “gettin’ “?

    JWM

  • Auntie Analogue March 5, 2020, 2:12 PM

    “Old and in the way, that’s what I heard them say.
    They used to heed the words you said, but that was yesterday.”

  • ghostsniper March 5, 2020, 6:53 PM

    Yeah, the knees are the worst part. You don’t realize how valuable they are til they don’t work right no more. My left knee just says, “Fuck you” any time it wants and like the honey badger it don’t give a shit. One day it woke up and decided it was gonna be an asshole and if I don’t like it, well, too bad.

    The right one is a different story and it’s a story that goes way back. What gave the right knee a permanent case of the ass was a 1959 Harley chopper that I mentioned here before. It had one of those ratchet style kick starters. Think of a gear with 3/4 of the teeth missing. Kickin’ the old hawg one day the ratchet went too far down, disengaged just as the piston hit top dead center and suddenly that gear was re-engaged in reverse throwing me halfway over the handlebars. The reason I didn’t go all the way over was that my right knee bent backward – deferring some of the shock. Yeah, you read that right. That was the first time my dad heard me say “Fuck!” Those big cables on the backside of my knee got stretched and if you understand how tendons are you know they are not forgiving. Ever. Right. That knee has always been a problem. Then like a dumbass I decided to kick that barking dawg in the ass and came up with the bright idea that jumping out of army planes while thousands of feet in the air was a good idea. Well, the jumping was OK, but the landing on uneven terrain, with an extra 50lbs of equipment wrapped all over the place, at night, was the problem. So for the past 40+ years I have been wondering which will need to be replaced first, my right knee, or my left hip that was fractured in a parachute fall from 800 feet. I really don’t think about this stuff much. Unless you call all day every day much.

  • Nori March 5, 2020, 7:51 PM

    Re: skin tags. Wally World has Dr Scholl’s Freeze Therapy Wart Remover,which zaps skin tags quite effectively. No blood,no pain.

    Yes indeed Ghost,the knees are killer. Extremely important joints. First torn ACL sounded like bubble wrap being stepped on,a fast popopopopop. Hurt like hell. Still functional,ibuprofen dulls the pain. Surgery,eventually. Mornings are worst,feels like trying to move a rusted robot out of bed.

  • Gordon Scott March 5, 2020, 8:12 PM

    Ghost,
    Surgery Center of Oklahoma is your friend. $14,500 for a new knee, total bottom line cost. Cash only, no insurance accepted (though some insurance companies will give you a check to give them, since it’s about 1/3 the cost of the typical hospital job). Oh, and they finance, too.

    Hip replacement: $15,499.

    Some gal in Wisconsin was flown to Acapulco, along with her surgeon, to have hers done in a completely modern hospital. The surgeon got a couple of days on the beach, and was paid more than he would have made back home. She was given a check for 10K. That was her bonus for saving her company a ton of cash.

  • John The River March 6, 2020, 7:42 AM

    I’m retired and old enough for the Senior League, Tuesday mornings. It’s an activity I should be able to continue almost to the day I die. We have bowlers, men and women, in their nineties, as well as eighties and seventies.
    A lot of them carefully walk to the foul line, stand there and after that each person has their own style which is an accommodation to their personal collection of infirmities; some toss it, some grip the ball at the end of their dangling arm swinging it back and releasing on the forward path. A couple have to hold it with both hands, they are the ones tossing it out ahead of themselves.
    One very thin lady whose knees still work; kneels down and places the ball on the foul line and somehow imparts a spin as she rolls it forward. (Her average is higher than mine, BTW)
    Beginning of the season I had a lady on my team just back from an hip replacement, she needed a walker at first, then a cane. I usually followed her out onto the lane when her turn come, carrying her balls since she didn’t have a hand free. If my attention was elsewhere when I was needed for this task, the other two ladies would call it to my attention, “Oh Ball Boy!”.

    Those who don’t come from New England or Canada are probably confused. The league is a Candlepin league, balls weight less than 3 pounds and have no holes. The ‘dead wood’ is left on the lane and is played.