I MUST BE GETTING OLD . . .

I must be getting old.  One of the  highlights of my day is lining a cookie sheet with aluminum foil.

I get tired after brushing my hair.

I think about having sex, and then I fall asleep

I go to the bathroom every morning -- and then I get out of bed.

I can remember when Santa Claus was a clean-shaven thin man.

I get excited listening to my hair grow.

I started using makeup from a funeral home.

I get out of breath while reading.

Sometimes I can't find my way home after putting out the garbage.

Occasionally I have to look at my driver's licence when someone asks me my name.

I must be getting old.  My friends keep telling how good I look.  And I keep telling them how good they look.  And  they keep telling  me how good I look.  And I keep telling them how good they look.  And they keep telling me . . .