It's an age thing.

#Medicare age: That moment when you realize you're too old to be a #SugarDaddy, and have to settle on being a #Splenda Pappy. #oldage #sad

— Spiff Carner (@spiffhappens) April 27, 2016

The Door Knob

Has this happened to you? It has happened to me. And let me tell you, it’s a frightening situation. I don’t know what the odds are of this happening, but I have beaten those odds on more than one occasion. It seems that the belt loops on my pants are the exact same height as those fancy door knobs with the curly-cue end. This morning I was searching for something in a hall closet, found it, turned away … and suddenly I was hooked!

I started jumping, twisting and bending like a 165-pound Marlin being reeled in!  But to no avail. I was weakening fast. My belt loop was helplessly wedged on that knob tighter than spandex on a 350-pound sumo wrestler. It seemed that my only recourse was to somehow get out of my pants while they were still attached to the door from hell. To make matters worse, the closet door and the devilish door knob that now owned me were next to our cut glass front door. My mind raced as I squirmed to get out of my pants while hoping that the UPS man would not be making a delivery at that very moment. Or, gosh forbid, Girl Scouts selling cookies! Finally, one leg free. I squirmed, grunted and with a great amount of luck finally freed myself from what would have been a certain defining moment in my life if Janet had arrived home moments earlier. I collapsed on the floor, totally exhausted. There, glaring down at me were my pants, dangling loosely from that “freaking” door knob. And then it hit me. This is exactly why I need a first alert necklace. “Hello, operator? I’m hooked on a door knob and I can’t escape!”

Forrest, the Corgi Comic!

Forrest ... the Corgi Comic!

Brave Opening Day 2016!