I don't even like checking my mail anymore. I check it at *least* once a week. I have my stance down and sometimes have one hand ready and waiting to catch the falling pile once I open up the hatch. In fact, at my prior residence the mailman had to leave me notes that he was going to stop delivering my mail when my box would get too full. A kick in the butt I certainly deserved.
But when did this all start? With freaking AARP! I'm not even 30...yet. I have just a few months left in my 20s and I'm trying to enjoy them in peace but AARP is harping at me. They've actually been sending me mail for more than a few years.
At first I was alarmed thinking I was a victim of ID Theft but my credit report was solid reassured me that I wasn't over 30 or 60 for that matter. I scan my brain to think what I bought on the internet to make AARP think I belonged with them? No Depends, no cross-stitch patterns, no year-supply of prune juice, no polyster pants, no black walnut ice cream (that one is for Jenny), no polident, no Listen Up (that commercial where she eavesdrops on her neighbors and yells at her husband for the loud tv)...so how old am I? I am only in my 20s right?
I was thinking of making a pile of all the AARP mail I've received in the past few months but it was becoming a fire and papercut hazard.
For the record: I may have to pluck gray hairs out of my head *everyday*, but I'm still in my 20s. For now. Stay back AARP - I'm not ready for you yet!
1 comment:
You just ended up on some mailing list...I don't get AARP, but I sometimes get solicitations for penis enlargement and dating websites.
Great, they think I'm a small penised single man...I think I'd rather just be old.
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