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Friday, February 21, 2014

Love Kills (part 2) + More Of ME!

Feeling much better after 5 days of flushing, I totally recognize that salt is killing me! Don't even notice it most likely, if you're in good health. After all, your body has to be around for a spell to get gunked up. I picked that word gunk, for a reason, you men will know what I'm talking about. I wish to explain to my wonderful female readers! Yep, you women make old men keep on living! You be like one of them defibrillators to an old man's heart!

Gunk is an automotive product that you pour in your gas tank, to clean your fuel injectors, in your automobile. Think of it like drano, cleaning out your pipes that are running a wee slow in, your home. If ya let it go, you'll have to call the rooter-rooter man, and if you have to call the rooter rooter man, he'll be expensive!! They place ethanol in most gasoline products today, and that can make your gas lines get gunked up!

I've told people for years, when I retire,  I don't want to retire to them warm sunny states to an old folks home, and play bridge with a lot of other old folks. They'll just make me feel, OLD! That's the last way, I want to feel. I want to have a house with a nice front porch, where all the college girls walk by, cause there ain't nothing that rejuvenates an old man, and brings a smile to their face, even when his putter can no longer putt! Many years ago, I drove a truck by a large university, where the road was right on their sidewalk. Good thing I had a young man's reflexes, today I'm quite sure I would wreck!

So me and my friends might be, discussing old age aches, problems of the world, what it was like fifty years ago, then . . . one of them college girls would walk down the sidewalk our heart rates would hit 100. Yep, we'd be almost comatose, speaking gibberish, looking almost beyond help, heart rate almost a straight line, then . . . then . . . I say then . . . eyeballs pop out, the defibrillator cells, synapses, whatever, for a few seconds, mentally were 18 again. That be my way of turning back time. I yie-yie-yie-yie! We can no longer salute . . . but . . . we have our daily massaging of the heart. I reckon we'd be over stimulated, quite frankly never considered that. What if them young women got together and said, "lets play a trick on them old codgers, we'll walk single file and strut our stuff, winking at them!" Well I'd reckon, that'd be the death of us, but what a way to go a smile on our faces, and permanent side effects of taking too much Viagra, it'd never retreat, them flags be stuck in permanent, full sail, charge, charge, charge. Later as we wait to get through the gates of heaven. Gabriel be checking our, out of this world passports. "What brings you here? Oh! I see, too much of a good thing, can be hard on you!!! Ah, ha, ha, ha, a little joke, would you like the same accommodation as your last?"  Glen

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