Top 10 spam emails I keep getting after turning 50

It’s tough getting old. It really is. Especially these days, when in the age of technology, there are vast computers out there counting the days for you without you even knowing. They know how old you are, and they are keeping track of what stage you are in your life so they can sell you out to advertisers. I get it. But I would seriously never even think about how old I am getting if it wasn’t for these damn emails. They stalk me.


Here are the ones I see the most:


I am kind of offended. I am way too young to be thinking about funeral arrangements (contrary to what my last blood lab results might say). But I get it. Sometimes things happen (it usually involves a woman) and you can never be too prepared.

So sure, why not? We are all going to die. Why not pay for it up front so nobody has to worry about it? I’m all for this. Nothing expensive though. I think coffins are stupid. Oh, and coffin pillows are even stupider. I don’t even have a comfortable pillow right now. I sure as hell not going to pay for one to use when I’m dead.

On second thought, I will just go with what my daughter told me once that she wanted. She said wanted to be cremated and then the ashes spread over a place that has brought her much happiness over the years – the big BBQ pits over at Taco Ole restaurant. Oh yeah. I like the way she thinks.


Wow. They think I can’t get in and out of a bath without drowning or breaking a hip. For


the record, I fall down all the time and have not broken anything important. I’m freaking made of steel. Though, to be honest, the things are really just ugly looking Jacuzzis with a door. As soon as soon as Medicare can pay for one you can count me in.


What the? I almost had a heart attack just reading that one. If this is true, then there was a time when I risked a heart attack every day. Sometimes more than once (insert slow motion wink here, or, more likely, I am just having a stroke). But seriously, can this really be true? How am I supposed to get my cardio now? This was about the only exercise worth doing now that I am over 50, and now it’s probably going to kill me some day.

I miss my young days of having sex when the biggest danger of dying was her husband getting off early from work. Lol. I’m kidding. The real danger was jumping out of the second story bedroom window when he got home. Kidding again!

But, in retrospect, I am lucky to still be alive.


Hell no! Haven’t you heard? People are dying from having sex! I want no part of it. Women can now feel free to satisfy themselves without my help. And by that I mean…yes, I am going to say it…watch The Lifetime channel and eat ice cream and brownies. You go girls.

But seriously, do any of you guys get this email? I keep wondering if someone complained about me? Was there a poll somewhere out there and women voted? Am I on a list somewhere of guys to avoid because I am not satisfying my women? For the record I get dehydrated very easily. It’s a genetic thing. It’s not my fault! I want a recount!


Okay. First of all, I don’t think my doctor is really a doctor. I have a feeling she is just a nurse practitioner or a physician assistant. Well, I have no idea where I was going with


that. Let’s see…hmmm. Oh yeah, I have a wee bit of high blood sugar. So the “not a doctor” girl I go to now gives me meds for that. So of course I have written about it and now my email (because it reads everything I write) sends me alternatives to anything my “not a doctor” wants to give me. I get a bunch of these telling me that there are a million over the counter products or ancient herbs that can cure me, which may be true. But if there are a million things that can cure high blood sugar (including not eating ice cream and cookies every day), why the hell would I want to cure it with some “weird” fish? Who came up with this marketing strategy? Who actually thinks I want to buy a product made from weird fish?


If I fall, and I can’t get up, I’m just not going to get up. I don’t see a problem here. The floor is usually the coolest place in my house. I am not going to call someone 10 times a day to break my door down and come pick me up. I’m just gonna lie there on the floor like a good little boy until someone gets home. Chances are I am going to be wearing diapers anyway by that time, and most likely have a bunch of Oreos stuffed in the my pajama pockets. I can lay there for a good while. I’m good.



I am sick and tired of companies sending messages just to tell me to watch a video about how my stomach works. And then the stupid video is of an animated hand writing something on an animated board one sentence at a time for ten minutes until they finally tell you what they are selling. And it is going to cost you way more than you can afford. To make things worse this stuff you can’t afford is literally capsules filled with billions of alleged “good bacteria” that you need to take every day so you can feel better.

I don’t think so. I get my bacteria the old fashion way. I eat at Chipotle.


OMG. Do you even know who you are talking to? The fastest way to get me to eat something is tell me I shouldn’t eat it. I never listen. Ever. And I am not even talking just about food either (but that’s another blog, lol).

There was a time in my life when I would not touch a food unless I was satisfied it had enough fat and sugar to stop a charging rhinoceros. That was last week. Now I do try and avoid the sugar just like me “not a doctor” person tells me to.

Speaking of the “not a doctor” person. I am quite confident she is pissed off at me. I may have to change doctor’s again. The other day she prescribed something and sent it electronically to my preferred pharmacy (that’s another clue I am over 50 – I have a “preferred pharmacy”). Well, it never got there so I called the office, but I could not remember my “not a doctor’s” name. The conversation went something like this.

“I don’t remember her name. I think she is a nurse practitioner.”

“We have 3 female nurse practitioners, sir.”

“Well, it’s the pregnant one.”


“Sir, we don’t have a pregnant one. Let me check your file.”

Wow. She could’ve just lead with that. She put the phone down but I could hear her tell the other girls in the office and they were all laughing about it. She came back on the phone.

“Yes, Mr. Alvarez, your NP is Ms. XXXX. I’ll let her know to send the script over to the pharmacy.”

“Okay, thanks. You’re not going to tell her I thought she was pregnant right?”

There was laughing in the background. I am pretty sure I was on speaker phone now.

“No, sir, of course not. Have a good day Mr. Alvarez”.

I’m screwed.


Okay, that’s enough. I don’t know who is out there talking trash about me, but this has to stop! I should have had them all sign non-disclosure agreements! Dammit!

P.S. Shhhh…I read the whole article. I ordered a 6 month supply. PM me and I will send you the link. (winkie emoji face)

I hope all of you guys out there are having a great day. I hope you enjoyed the post. And, yeah, I know I could just adjust my spam filter, but what fun would that be?

5 thoughts on “Top 10 spam emails I keep getting after turning 50

Add yours

  1. I saw that poll going around about you. That’s how I got here. I had to know who this guy was all these ladies were complaining about. 😁

    Liked by 1 person

  2. OMG, I laughed so hard, thanks.
    I’m 43 and every time I see a doctor is the same story “you passed the 40s, everything is possible: pre-pre menopause (yes, there is such a thing), presbyopia, lost of memory…”.

    “The Hell??? But I’m supposed to be living the best time of my life.”
    No, apparently not, what I am is decaying and all get the same explanation, I’m 43.

    Whatever, let’s enjoy the journey.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I’m laughing at people are looking at me funny. Again. Really have to stop watching up on WordPress in public. 😄
    I got told the other day that women ‘in my segment’ (apparently anything above 35) think a lot about their gardens, their pensions and their grandchildren. Might want to go back to the drawing board on that one, marketing people. Idiots 😜

    Liked by 1 person

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