WHERE ARE MY GLASSES?

WHERE ARE MY GLASSES?

WHERE ARE MY GLASSES?

Yesterday my daughter e-mailed me again asking why I didn't do
something useful with my time.

Like sitting around the pool and drinking wine is not a good thing.

Talking about my "doing something useful" seems to be her favorite topic of conversation.

She was "only thinking of me" and suggested I go down to the senior
center and hang out with the guys.

I did this and when I got home last night I decided to teach her a
lesson about staying out of my business.

I e-mailed her and told her that I had joined a parachute club.

She replied, "Are you nuts? You are 73 years old, and now you're going to start jumping out of airplanes?"

I told her that I even got a membership card and e-mailed a copy to her.

She immediately telephoned me, "Good grief, where are your glasses!
This is a membership to a Prostitute Club, not a Parachute Club."

"Oh man, I'm in trouble again;
I really don't know what to do...
I signed up for five jumps a week."

The line went quiet and her friend picked up the phone and said that she had fainted.