I'M SO LONELY . . .

How lonely are you? 

I'm so lonely, I have a party every time the mailman comes. 
 
I'm so lonely, I keep my library books late so the librarians will call me.
  
I'm so lonely, I look forward to traffic jams so I can meet people.
 
I'm so lonely, I party with the cockroaches in my place.
 
I'm so lonely, I look for lineups to stand in just to be with people.
 
I'm so lonely, I take my bicycle out to fancy restaurants.  (Most times they won't let my bicycle in because it's not wearing a tie.)
 
I'm so lonely, I buy myself gifts pretending someone else bought them.
 
I'm so lonely, I keep my garbage for company.
 
I'm so lonely I pay my friends to visit me.
 
I'm so lonely, I lose THE END just to talk to the people at Lost and Found.

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 . . .

SOME OF MY BEST . . .

Some of my best friends are friends.