When I was younger, I was a painting for a living. I’ll never forget that on my first day at work I was hooked up with a crusty old fart who was every bit near 70 years old. He was trying to take off a light fixture at the top of some stairs and he had rigged up some rickety contraption in order to reach the fixture. He had to hold one hand onto a doorway and reach WAY out with the other hand trying to unscrew the fixture over the stairs in order to paint the ceiling around it. Needless to say this was difficult and somewhat dangereous to do this. Being the young apprentice, I was intently watching him to help him out any way I could. He was huffing and puffing trying his best and finally I heard him muttering under his sweaty brow:
This is like trying to sew up a wild cat’s ass with a log chain!*
I laughed so hard that I almost puked. We both laughed at the situation. It was too funny.
I get such a kick outta old guys anymore. Have you heard some doozies? Share em’
When I was in high school, I worked at the school’s TV and radio station. One day we were sprucing up the TV news set by painting the big desk with white latex. There were about 4 of us there, who didn’t really know what we were doing and were kind of goofing around, so the painting wasn’t exactly of professional quality. The station’s chief engineer, a very funny old guy of about 65, shuffled into the studio, took a look at what we were doing, and said, “You guys paint like you’ve got your left nut in a vise!”
My boss at work is 66 years old and of course works more hours and volunteers for more of the grunt work than anyone else. He also has a comically thick Southern accent which marks him as one of the few people who lived in this area when it was the sticks, before it became a trendy suburb. I’ve heard him say two words not related to work in the past three years.
Once when pulling some boxes of Christmas crap off of a truck with me, he saw that the top of his stack was some candy with Spongebob Squarepants on it. He said, free of any accent, “My man! Spongebob!” and went back to work. I was stunned for the rest of the day.
My aunt and uncle live in Amarillo, TX, the yards of which are decorated by “roadsigns” with various odd sayings on them. They were created by Stanley Marsh, owner of the Cadillac Ranch.
(http://recenter.tamu.edu/pdf/1523.pdf)
When I commented on the signs my uncle said Marsh was the “biggest producer of natural gas in Texas,” and then added that he didn’t mean that as a joke.
I was checking coats at an Elk’s Club for their annual New Year’s party. Going in, people weren’t very chatty. Going out, boy oh boy!
One old guy said to me and my friend, who was working there with me, “That job doesn’t look too bad. And looks like you young fellows made quite a few tips, too!” My friend jokingly replied, “You’re right. We’re young and strong, it’s not too hard.”
The old man got a twinkle in his eye, grinned and said, “It’s not hard when you get to be MY age, if you know what I mean.” Then he laughed, nearly fell down, and his wife turned beet red.
My friend and I were nearly rolling with laughter when the old man continued, “I can only feel it sometimes, and only in spots! Ha ha!” His wife led him quickly away.
Epilogue:
My friend and I each made nearly a hundred dollars in tips that night. It was mostly in ones, so we decided to go to a strip club to waste it frivilously. We told ourselves we were doing it as an appreciation for it still being hard at our age.
This doesn’t have anything to do with the OP, but I work with an older guy who is pretty darned randy. He’ll point out anything even remotely sexual or sexually funny.
A committee made some posters for the grand opening of the employee game room/relaxation room/whatever. The poster says something like, “This is an excellent opportunity to familiarize yourself with the wonderful facility that management has provided and worked so hard on.”
Of course, my co worker noticed that the last two words of that sentence (and the paragraph is centre-justified, BTW) were on their own line.
My great uncle and aunt have now been married for 71 years, sadly… my uncle (95) now has advanced Alzheimers and lives in a nursing home while my aunt still lives on the farm with one of my cousins. She visits him twice daily as she is the only person he remembers and will respond to, I guess 71 years of living together will do that.
On a brighter note, when my uncle and aunt were celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary we were sitting and talking. I asked my uncle what the secret was for staying married so long.
He replied with a wink, “you know your aunt can be quite the little fireball so every once in a while I just have to put her across my knee and give her a good spanking…”
My aunt turned shades of red I never knew existed then gave my uncle a big hug and a kiss.
They are still the embodiment of what true love and devotion is.
A sixty-something year old truck driver on his upcoming trip to Hawaii:
“You can bet if one of them hula girls bends over in front of me, I’m gonna look right up that ass!”
My wife is a nurse at a retirement home, so she’s heard more than her share of whoppers, most of which I can’t recall offhand. One old lady sings constantly - sometimes innocent, traditional songs, other times, vulgar, sexually explicit songs that my wife wonders where she ever learned in the first place.
My friend’s Grampy was just like Grandpa Simpson - full of piss and vinegar and stories about washing clothes on a rock in the river when he was a kid. He loved to show us the suit he had picked out for his funeral - he said it was too nice to wear before that (sadly, he did finally get to wear that special suit). Right after those cult members committed suicide to get to outer space (I guess they spiked some applesauce and vodka or something), he would wait at the dining room table for his home nurse to come over with a jar of applesauce and a bottle of vodka in front if him.
One day he was talking about getting old (he was 81, I believe) and said “You lose you hair, your hearing, your sight. You can’t shovel snow. Aaaah, the Golden Years. They can CRAM it!” Grampy was the best!
My own dear Dad, 76 years old, when anyone comments on the fact that most of his hair is gone likes to respond: “well, a man’s only got a certain amount of testosterone in his body. If some men choose to waste theirs growing hair, that’s their problem!”
My grampa died when he was 84, back in the late 80’s. When he was 80, he had a double knee replacement surgery so he could keep square dancing. I have no idea how the subject came up, probably from talking about how he couldn’t wait until his knees healed well enough to square dance again…
“When I die, I wanna either drop dead on the dance floor… or else be shot by a jealous husband!”
My grampa was a hoot. FTR, he in fact, had a fatal heart attack four years later… while square dancing.
Worked part time with a retired old dude that was a hoot. He walked with a limp caused by a bad knee. One day I asked him, “How ya doin’, Fred?” and he said, “Well, if I can get the stiffness and swelling out of my knee and into my dick, I’d be just fine!”
I heard him say something else one day that totally reworked my world view, but its beyond the scope of this thread.
Fagjunk Theology: Not just for sodomite propagandists anymore.
When I worked at the funeral home I used to go get stiffs from the old folks’ homes in the area. This one time I was got off the elevator on the second floor of one of them, and pulling the “cot” along behind me there was this old guy in a wheel chair who said, “Got any room for me in there?”
I was shocked and said nothing–I only walked away. It took me a while to get over that one.
Once as a young boy I was helping my grandfather fix a riding lawnmower. He put a wrench on a bolt and turned and turned. It rotated but wouldn’t loosen off. So he says “Well, what the hell’s the matter with THAT damn thing?” He stretches his neck to look at the nut on the other side while he turns the wrench: “God DAMmit, it’s just spinnin’ like a button on a shit-house door.”
I use to give a ride to this old guy to a meeting that we both attended. He was old and walked slowly, almost shuffling. One night we were on an elevator and a nurse was on with us and she noticed his fly was down, so she told me quietly since he looked like he really couldn’t hear.
When he heard her, he slowly reached down to zip up and said “If it can’t get up, it can’t get out”
The nurse and I burst out laughing. He had a wry smile on his face.
Another time i was speaking to a nice old guy on the phone about some business, and he told me he was in his nineties and was starting to go blind. I told him I was sorry and he said “Oh it’s ok. At my age I’ve seen it all anyway.”
I used to work with an old-timer who’d retired, but wanted to work a few hours a week to get out of the house, so he took a part time job with our company that didn’t require much activity. He was a horny old bas…umm…goat, and used to tell us tales of his days as a young travelling salesman. I don’t recall him ever mentioning any farmer’s daughters, but they were apparently the only women safe from old Joe, to hear him tell it. His favorite line was, “I used to cum every hour, on the hour; just like Old Faithful”.
Well, I admit it was pretty funny the first time I heard it from this hunchbacked old guy. But, after about the 40th time, it got on my nerves a little. So, about the 60th time he said it to me, I replied “That must have been inconvenient.” He just looked puzzled and went back to work.
When I was carrying out groceries for a friendly older man, he expressed his frustration with the smaller trunk that was in his daughter’s car that he drove for this occasion.
“I don’t know if you heard this one,” he said, "but here’s an old limerick that I’m reminded of:
There once was a man from Boston
Who drove around town in his Austin[sub]sp?[/sub] He had room for his ass
and a gallon of gas
But his balls hung out, so he lost 'em.
“Anyway,” he chuckled, “That’s how driving this car makes me feel.”
It was better than a tip, participating in such an occurence.
