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My fellow Old Farts and pudding enthusiasts: The time has come for us to stand up (slowly and carefully, to prevent hip displacement and light-headedness) and be counted. Why should all the young whippersnappers who chew 82 pieces of Juicy Fruit at once, who can't lace their shoes properly or wear pants that suitably cover their bums have all the fun?  Visit this blog and get your very own official Old Farts Club membership card courtesy of the fabulous little g and join the Old Farts revolution. The uprising starts now! Well, as soon as we finish our delicious pudding cups. And then as soon as this episode of Law and Order is done. To the uninitiated, the Old Farts Club is more of a state of mind. And as with any great club, membership has its privileges. As always, Old Farts are entitled to copious amounts of pudding, access to the Old Farts Community Centre big screen TV for Matlock marathons and shuffleboard tournaments. (Due to overwhelming demand, we are considering making pudding wrasslin' night a weekly event.) Old Farts also have the privilege of general curmudgeonliness and have the right to rant at the drop of a hat on any topic he/she chooses. Old Farts also reserve the special right to speak at length about physical aches and pains, tell stories that have little or no discernible point, and say otherwise incredibly rude statements by qualifying them with 'bless her heart' or 'God love him'. ('That paper boy is quite the jerk, God love him.') In short, we can claim the ultimate freedom for ourselves to say and do whatever we like and get away with it because we're old. So, get your orthopaedic inserts, white bermuda shorts and panama hats and join us for some pudding at the Old Farts Club. In the immortal words of my personal Old Fart hero, Abraham Simpson: "We can’t bust heads like we used to, but we have our ways. One trick is to tell 'em stories that don’t go anywhere -- like the time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe, so, I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. 'Give me five bees for a quarter,' you’d say. Now where were we? Oh yeah -- the important thing was that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn’t have white onions because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones..." What were we talking about?
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Official Threadless Old Fart: helpful reading here and here. You're welcome.  SCRAPPLEJUICE FOREVER!      Thanks, chelly!  Thanks, Tora!  Thanks, littlem!   Thanks, taz-pie!   Thanks, Corey!  iPear on Feb 22 '09 at 12:18am squintygirl your spirit animal would be a seal often called the mermaids of the sea, you would have sweet whiskers that would tickle all the children that you play with and protect from the sharks. You have strong characteristics of Seals, because you are special and make killer pancakes, which is something that most seals are known for. Your skin is silky smooth, and when you swim really fast you look like a huge gray sausage zooming under the water.   Old Farts Club Members (now on Facebook!) corey8/corey9 squintygirl (that's me!) adam antium pinkpiggyme travis76 grayehound kidaro P Shmoov Rock Deputy little g whisper in water Manos jmo9000 mikemills juliagoolia Luke... realslimnatey DarthG d3d steven218 steve_swartz Darth Veg WallsReallyWork spencekarl swedz littlem MadTheologian UberRyan mezo the czar hogboy vulcanhalfbreed F.A.B. typh chelly illustraTom angelito phones velusariot redsugar fatboyradio shirtflirt OCandCO lemonalle alacyt/avalanche_lily melhel86 nasti.girl. amy122166 - the greatest Evil Twin and prop girl anyone could ever ask for! deboraborialis taz-pie bkaiser jackanapes kayceislost pickledbib chemi hydro NatySpaghetti fc gravy Kitchen Patrol Fourty Four GldKttn18 funkie fresh Noobits kooky love iPear Butterfly Wings Mezbee hoesclothesandbankrolls squeegebeckenheim i carnt spell catdogpigduck herky xxreddawnxx MysteriousPete Mr Kawfy Aristarchus theurbanraptor MikeHarding morganian RussB Shix ladykat kirstenlovesdinner Tazocat bygrinstow Bonnie76 T-Lou robot activist Julie Ocean ghost of sophia   My Long and Boring Back Story When I was a young lass, I had the most incredible eyesight. I could read small typed pages from across the room and identify licence plates from a staggering distance. It was really cool. For a while there, I was invincible. INVINCIBLE! Life, however, always has a funny way of crash-landing you back to reality, and over the course of a few years, my eyesight went from fantastic to average to poor to complete crap. I would sit in class and squint at the blackboard all day and have absolutely no idea what I was looking at. In Grade Five, I became an expert note-taker by just writing down EVERYTHING my teacher said (which, incidentally, became a very handy skill none of my board-copying schoolmates had mastered when we all needed it in university) and spent my nights begging my mother for glasses. She didn't believe me. Also, she thought they would make me look nerdy. I walked around half-blind for almost three years until the fateful day my mom caved in and took me to the eye doctor, hurray! But what was it that finally convinced dear Mum? Was it the fact that I kept tripping on things I couldn't see in the street? No. Was it the fact that three of my teachers and the school nurse told my mother that I needed glasses, IMMEDIATELY? No. Was it the fact that I had to hold a book a centimetre from my face to actually make out the words? No. What convinced my mom to take me to the eye doctor was my squinting and how much she hated it. 'You look like you're smelling boiled cabbage all the time, stop making that face!' 'You're going to have terrible wrinkles when you get older, stop making that face!' 'It's going to freeze like that forever, you know, stop making that face!' And 'squintygirl' was born. It was, however, the same day I finally got glasses (the ugliest glasses you could ever possibly imagine, natch), so I never had to squint again. Nevertheless, I felt such an affinity for and alliance with squintygirl, that she stayed with me through successively uglier pairs of glasses as the years passed. Today, I have less ugly glasses and still don't squint, but I continue to salute that industrious little girl. Incidentally, my face never did freeze that way, but I am worried about wrinkles, now that I'm a member of Threadless' Old Farts Club. I guess Mom was right about something. (She was also right about the nerdy thing, too.) The Fighting Cacti, by Gina 
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Nov 19 '06 by
...plus my back hurts.
and my tits sag lower than them hoodlem's jeanses.