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How to have a midlife crisis in 10 easy steps
So, once you are committed, try not to tell too many people that you are planning to go off on a motorcycle adventure. For everybody - everybody - will have a story to tell you about a friend of a friend who did something similar. This friend of a friend always dies. 2. Make sure you can ride a motorbike I recommend BMW's rider training centre in South Wales (bmwridertraining.com), in the small town of Ystradgynlais: light on vowels but heavy on pensioners crossing the road without looking, thus handy for practising those emergency stops. Once you've got yourself a bike (I went for the BMW R1200GS, because I have no imagination and it was good enough for Ewan McGregor), you'll need some luggage. I opted for a couple of Ortlieb Dry Bags and Metal Mule panniers - chunky aluminium boxes that, combined with the bags, turn your previously sleek bike into the sort of overladen vehicle normally only seen fleeing war zones.
Soaring health care costs extend from humans to pets
Reggie, an 8-year-old dog whom I loved without reservation, went to his reward three weeks ago on our veterinarian's examining table. Reggie had been diagnosed in early November with congestive heart failure and had not responded to the various medications prescribed for him. His stomach had swollen to the size of a soccer ball; he was hemorrhaging internally and sooner or later would bleed to death. The decision to end his life was incredibly painful, but not really all that difficult. Our laws permit us to do unto our household animals what we are not permitted to do unto ourselves: take them out of their misery, let them die speedily when they are ready to die - and grant them, in the words of the most beautiful prayer that I know, "a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last." So while Reggie snuggled his head into the crook of my elbow, the veterinarian administered the final dose, and, after three deep sighs, Reggie breathed his last.
Ad nauseam
Don't you love the way the wife lovingly puts her head on his shoulder at the end, when in reality she'd likely be feral with sleep deprivation? Men love beer. If that's stating the bleeding obvious, why are we still subjected to that revolting ad where the tongue leaves its owner in bed and hops out for a night on the town? It skitters across the road and into a party, scales the bath and drags home a Tooheys Extra Dry. The tongue's owner is confused about where the coldie came from, but one might bet his mouth tastes like a cocky's cage. In the US, there's a cake-taker for Volkswagen. A man so loves his Volkswagen Jetta that, when he notices bird droppings on his car, he licks them off. Then he walks up to his girlfriend's door and gives her a kiss. She pauses, only momentarily, then blithely follows him to the car.
How to have a midlife crisis in 10 easy steps
So, once you are committed, try not to tell too many people that you are planning to go off on a motorcycle adventure. For everybody - everybody - will have a story to tell you about a friend of a friend who did something similar. This friend of a friend always dies. 2. Make sure you can ride a motorbike I recommend BMW's rider training centre in South Wales (bmwridertraining.com), in the small town of Ystradgynlais: light on vowels but heavy on pensioners crossing the road without looking, thus handy for practising those emergency stops. Once you've got yourself a bike (I went for the BMW R1200GS, because I have no imagination and it was good enough for Ewan McGregor), you'll need some luggage. I opted for a couple of Ortlieb Dry Bags and Metal Mule panniers - chunky aluminium boxes that, combined with the bags, turn your previously sleek bike into the sort of overladen vehicle normally only seen fleeing war zones.
Soaring health care costs extend from humans to pets
Reggie, an 8-year-old dog whom I loved without reservation, went to his reward three weeks ago on our veterinarian's examining table. Reggie had been diagnosed in early November with congestive heart failure and had not responded to the various medications prescribed for him. His stomach had swollen to the size of a soccer ball; he was hemorrhaging internally and sooner or later would bleed to death. The decision to end his life was incredibly painful, but not really all that difficult. Our laws permit us to do unto our household animals what we are not permitted to do unto ourselves: take them out of their misery, let them die speedily when they are ready to die - and grant them, in the words of the most beautiful prayer that I know, "a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last." So while Reggie snuggled his head into the crook of my elbow, the veterinarian administered the final dose, and, after three deep sighs, Reggie breathed his last.
Ad nauseam
Don't you love the way the wife lovingly puts her head on his shoulder at the end, when in reality she'd likely be feral with sleep deprivation? Men love beer. If that's stating the bleeding obvious, why are we still subjected to that revolting ad where the tongue leaves its owner in bed and hops out for a night on the town? It skitters across the road and into a party, scales the bath and drags home a Tooheys Extra Dry. The tongue's owner is confused about where the coldie came from, but one might bet his mouth tastes like a cocky's cage. In the US, there's a cake-taker for Volkswagen. A man so loves his Volkswagen Jetta that, when he notices bird droppings on his car, he licks them off. Then he walks up to his girlfriend's door and gives her a kiss. She pauses, only momentarily, then blithely follows him to the car.
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