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Welcome to My Midlife Crisis

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A few years ago I hit middle age, that crazy phase of life when it's time to take stock of one's mortality, reassess one's dreams and relationships and have a mandatory midlife crisis. I was 52 when it struck. My kids had flown the nest, my career was stagnant, my marriages had ended and I needed a new car.

I suddenly felt a desperate urge to change my life. I owned a record company, a movie studio, a casino in Monte Carlo and a modeling agency. It was an OK job but frankly, hanging out on the French Riviera with the likes of Scarlett and Mick was just not that fulfilling anymore. Scarlett tends to be a little clingy and I was bored when Mick begged me to perform with the Stones at Madison Square Garden last year. I yawned when he said there would be groupies.

Life in the fast lane just didn't appeal to me anymore, so I decided to change course and do the things I've always dreamed of doing. I sold all my companies and became a janitor at a small high school in Middletown, NY, which some people call the dullest town in the United States, but to me, it's a little piece of paradise. No annoying palm trees, itchy white sand and dull sparkling-blue ocean views. Who needs it when you can go out and savor the simple beauty of the sludge pond just two miles north of the new Olive Garden?

Now, instead of Scarlett and Mick, I hang out with two really fascinating people -- Doris Schultz, our town's 72- year-old librarian who makes doilies out of discarded stained handkerchiefs and Chuck Fliegel, our local high school gym teacher whose hobby is collecting glass shards. We often get together at night and do the things I've always wanted to do in my life, like watching cattle and talking about soil. It's exhilarating.

Of course, I sold all my cars too -- got rid of the six Ferraris, the twelve Maseratis, the Rolls and the Bentley and bought myself a 1988 Honda Civic. I love the fact that there are absolutely no screens or monitors on the dash! Just a busted cassette player and a radio.

Before my midlife crisis, I was happy with the way I looked -- I had a nice head of hair, a strong jaw, straight nose, great teeth. I was a handsome guy. The most beautiful women in the world literally threw themselves at me. How boring is that? So, once I started my midlife crisis, I realized I didn't want to be handsome anymore. As a plumber, I don't make enough for plastic surgery (can you even find a plastic surgeon who would deliberately make you look worse?) so I had my beefy bartender friend Floyd rearrange my face with a few strategic punches.

Now that my face resembles that of an extremely untalented boxer, women no longer throw themselves at my feet unless they need to vomit. So it took a lot of intense wooing for me to win over my new sweetheart, Fern Plotchke, who used to work at the bank until she went cross-eyed. We're going to be married soon.

The good thing is, Fern is seventy and had her midlife crisis twenty years ago. She went a little crazy -- bought herself a ceiling fan!! -- but now everything is fine.

Ah yes, I'm livin' the dream!