40 Over-the-Hill Birthday Jokes
Jokes for milestone birthdays: 40, 50, 60 and beyond.
Turning 40, 50 or 60? These over-the-hill jokes are perfect for the card, the toast or the black balloons. They tease, but they’re on your side.
The big 40, 50 and 60 (19)
Milestone birthday jokes about candles, cakes and AARP mail.
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My cake at 30 said “Party Animal.” At 50 it said “Happy Birthday.”
At 60 it just said “Low Sodium.”
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My friends lit all 60 candles on my birthday cake at once.
Two neighbors called the fire department. One brought marshmallows.
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I asked for no gag gifts for my 50th birthday.
So they got me a walker with racing stripes.
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Nobody remembered my 50th birthday. Not my kids, not my friends, not even my mom.
AARP remembered. Three weeks early.
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This year I put number candles on my cake: a 6 and a 0.
My nephew put them in backwards. Best gift I got.
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I finally turned 40, and now I understand my dad.
I, too, have very strong feelings about the thermostat.
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I bought wine on my 40th birthday, secretly hoping to get carded.
The cashier asked if I needed help out to my car.
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My wife asked if I wanted a big party for my 50th. I asked who’d even come.
She said, “That’s why I’m asking.”
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My coworkers filled my office with black “Over the Hill” balloons.
My boss thought someone died and gave me the day off.
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I turned 65, and my Medicare card finally came in the mail.
Right next to a coupon from the local funeral home.
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My friends asked what I wanted to do for my 45th birthday. I said, “Take a nap.”
Every single one of them asked if they could come.
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My wife insisted on putting all 50 candles on my birthday cake.
By the time she lit the last one, I was 51.
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On my 21st birthday, the neighbors called the cops about the noise.
On my 50th, they called for a wellness check.
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For my 50th birthday, I bought myself a little red convertible.
My chiropractor sent me a thank-you card.
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My doctor wished me a happy 50th birthday and handed me a gift bag.
It was my colonoscopy prep kit. With a bow on it.
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When I turned 40, my doctor started every sentence with, “At your age…”
When I turned 60, he started saying it to my wife.
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My friends threw me a surprise party for my 60th birthday.
When they all jumped out yelling “Surprise!”, three of them pulled something.
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My friends threw me a surprise 60th and hid in my dark living room for an hour.
I came home, skipped the lights, and went straight to bed. They let themselves out.
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For my 40th birthday, my wife bought me a gym membership. For her 40th, I bought her one too.
Turns out it’s only a thoughtful gift in one direction.
Lying about your age (7)
For anyone who has been 39 for a while now.
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I don’t lie about my age to seem younger.
I add ten years so everyone says I look amazing.
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I’ve lied about my age for so long, I honestly forgot the real number. So I called my mom.
She lied too.
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My aunt has been 39 for so long…
Her 39th birthday just held its own 10-year reunion.
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I tell everyone I’m 45.
Worked great right up until my son’s 40th birthday party.
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In college, I paid good money for a fake ID that said I was 21.
Now I’d pay double for one that says I’m 49.
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I lie about my birthday at restaurants to get the free dessert.
Last month I turned 52 four times.
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I ordered a birthday cake that said, “You’re not getting older, you’re getting better.”
The bakery called to ask if they could fact-check it.
Officially over the hill (14)
Aches, discounts and green bananas once the hill is behind you.
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Everyone keeps telling me I’m “over the hill.”
What hill? I don’t remember any hill.
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At 17, I used to sneak out of the house to go to parties.
At 52, I sneak out of parties to go home to bed.
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The cashier gave me the senior discount without even asking.
I saved three bucks and aged ten years.
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I’ve stopped buying green bananas.
At my age, that’s a long-term investment.
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People keep telling me age is just a number.
So is my cholesterol, and my doctor is not relaxed about it.
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I’ve started making a little groaning noise when I sit down.
And when I stand up. And when I think about standing up.
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These days, when I bend down to tie my shoes,
I look around for anything else I can do while I’m down there.
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At 25, a birthday hangover lasted one morning.
At 47, I’m still recovering from my 44th.
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Nothing makes you feel old like hearing your rebellious teenage anthem in the grocery store.
Softly. On panpipes. In the prune aisle.
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These days I drive at the speed limit, in the right lane, with both hands on the wheel.
Twenty-year-old me is somewhere behind me, honking.
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Our new neighbors threw a party that went until 2 a.m.
We called the police at 9:15.
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Somewhere after 50, my eyebrows got ambitious.
My barber now asks if I want them trimmed or landscaped.
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This year I went to the Halloween party as “a guy with a 10 p.m. bedtime.”
Very convincing. I left at 9:40.
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The highlight of my week was buying a new vacuum cleaner.
I texted photos to three friends. Two asked for the model number.