Happy birthday, Jen! And remember:
Women are most fascinating between the ages of 35 and 40 after they have won a few races and know how to pace themselves. Since few women ever pass 40, maximum fascination can continue indefinitely.
Forty isn't old, if you're a tree.
Forty is the old age of youth; fifty is the youth of old age.
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4 comments:
Um, yeah, thanks for the birthday wishes, I guess.
Ya know, I'm not really sure how to interpret your post: shall I think of myself as a tree (and if I were a tree, which tree would I be?)? I haven't really won any races, as I'm flabby and out of shape (not riding my bike enough, I suppose), so I don't think I have learned to pace myself. Does this mean I haven't reached my maximum fascination yet? Or that I even have any fascination to max out?
Now I'm getting depressed. I think I'll have to go watch White Christmas.
I think you'd be a spruce: a steady performer, looking great in every season, and just prickly enough that people don't get all touchy-feely with you.
You are too kind (or maybe you just pity me!!)
Aren't spruces full of sap? :) Can I be sappy & prickly at the same time??
Those of us in the White Christmas cult can't help but have a little sap in us.
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