Just say no

“Why are you moping around tonight Wolf?

“I had to do it. I had to say it. I haven’t said that word in, well, in many years.”

“One word gets you into this snit?”


“Go ahead. Tell me. What dastardly word did you say today?”

“I really hate to admit it, Minnie. You know me, right? Have I ever refused anything you have asked of me?”

“Please. I don’t keep track of stuff like that.”

“I do. And I just don’t do it.”

“You are talking in riddles. What did you say?”

“I can’t believe I did it Minnie. I am the ultimate nincompoop. The Mary Poppins of Pennsylvania. The most obnoxious people pleaser in history. I think I might even occasionally tell white lies. I hate to let people down. I think of myself as invincible, capable, reliable.”

“You sure you haven’t been listening to Super Tramp again? You forgot logical.”

“It isn’t funny. I let myself down.”


“I said no. There. I said it. No.”

“To what?”

“To taking on more responsibility. I just couldn’t do it. I finally realized my limitations.”

“Oh my God, Wolf. You mean to say you finally stood your ground? You put your foot down and didn’t back down? Congratulations, you evolved from Super Tramp to Tom Petty.”

“You think it is easy, don’t you Minnie, to say no.”

“We non achievers do it all the time.”

“Are you calling me a non achiever?”

“I wouldn’t think of doing that Wolf. Only you know what you are capable of.”

“But why all these guilty feelings?”

“Sounds like you are caught in a trap, can’t get out.”

“Knock off the Elvis stuff. You could at least be sympathetic.”

“It’s called self esteem and self actualization, girl. You are finally getting to think about yourself for a change. And not what others think about you.”

“Where do you get all this knowledge, Minnie?”

“From Betty Ford.”

“That wasn’t Betty, it was Nancy Reagan.”

“Well, Betty should have taken Nancy’s advice.”



Send in the clowns

“How do you cheer somebody up, Minnie?”

“Depends. What’s wrong?”

“Oh my friend at work is depressed. And I feel helpless. What should I do?”

“Depends. What’s wrong?”

“Quit saying that. It doesn’t matter what’s wrong. She is depressed, broke and can’t see her way out.”

“What did you do to try to help?”

“I cracked jokes. I acted goofy. I tweaked her cheeks. I behaved outrageously. I turned cartwheels.”

“And it didn’t help, did it?”


“You dope. When someone is depressed, you need to listen. Let her talk. No matter what you do, it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need a clown trying to get her to laugh.”

“I hate clowns.”

“You never told me that. What do you hate about clowns?”

“They are spooky with those laughing mouths and sad eyes. Clowns are nothing but our own miserable existence, magnified.”

“You mean you haven’t heard that comedians are really not so funny in real life? They laugh and carry on in public, but in private, they are miserable.”

“Do you consider me a clown, Minnie?”

“No, because you really are not funny. You just think you are.”

“What’s this got to do about my depressed friend?”

“Quit trying to get her to laugh. You are adding to her depression. She needs a shoulder to lean on and some real answers to her problems.”

“All right. I will try to control myself and not be a goof.”

“Hmmm. That hasn’t happened in let’s see, in the past 70 years, so this should be very interesting.”

“Yes, Minnie. I will wear black tomorrow and carry a sickle. And I have these fake ears that I am gonna put over my real ears. I bought them during Halloween season. Hence, the listening factor. And that should clinch it. My friend will be cured by tomorrow afternoon.”

“You really should consider going into politics, girl.”


“Your depressed friend is all of us.”


Take this job….

“Why so blue, Wolf?”

“I have the Sunday blues. I have to go to work tomorrow.”

“You don’t have the blues on Monday, or even Tuesday through Friday. Why only Sunday?”

“When you get into the routine, you don’t think about it. You just do it. But now that I have had 2 days to contemplate my navel, I am blue.”

“Do you have colors for every day of the week?”

“Yes, I do. Monday is by far, the darkest, so that is a black day. And Tuesday, well, it seems to be the most productive day of the week, so that is yellow. Wednesday is hump day, and camels have humps so it is a brown day. Thursday, there is a glimmer of hope, so green shines through. And Friday is the best day, and that is ravishing red.”

“What’s Saturday?”

“That is a kaleidoscope of colors. A rainbow. An absolutely glorious array of all colors.”

“I guess Saturday must be your favorite day, eh?”

“Yes, Minnie. That it is.”

“Do you think there might be a reason for that?”

“Sure. I still have another day off, before I get the blues.”

“And it has nothing to do with, you know, your habits?”


“Think about it. What did you do yesterday?”


“You were up to your usual shenanigans and were half in the bag by noon.”

“Hmm. You may have something there. Grab a bottle of wine, out of the fridge, girl. I feel like chasing the blues.”

“I don’t know Wolf. You may feel miserable tomorrow.”

“So what? It’s Monday.”


Which would you rather have?

“What’s it mean, Leap year, anyway?”

“Everyone knows that Minnie.”

“What? What does it mean Wolf?”

“It means we get an extra day and we will leap ahead into spring.”

“No way. I agree with the extra day, but leaping ahead is what we do when the clocks change.”

“Wrong again. We spring back in most years. But this year, we will leap back.”

“You are full of it. Here comes Pat. She will know what leap year means, right Pat?”

“Sure. It means women can ask men out on a date. And if they like the geezer, they can propose.”

“What’s that got to do with leaping?”

“Everything. It’s a tradition every four years. Women can get the leap on men, for a change, and call the shots.”

“What about the other three years?”

“That question has never been answered.”

“I think you are both making this up. I am gonna check it out on the internet.”

Minnie read the article on leap years: It is necessary to add a day to the calendar in order to keep the seasons synchronized. And according to folk tradition, leap year is the only year women can propose marriage to men. In England, the queen levied fines on the men if they refused. And in Denmark, if the guy refused, he had to buy the woman 12 pair of gloves. And in Greece, it is considered unlucky to get married in leap year.
“Well, I hate to admit it, but you both got part of it right.”

“Sure we did. Ask us something else. We know everything.”

“OK. Which would you rather have? A guy accept your marriage proposal or 12 pairs of gloves?”


Be careful what you ask for….

“Where’s the cook? It’s lunch time.”

“I don’t know. Are you sure she isn’t here?”

“Nope. I checked out the dining room. No lunch is ready.”

“Wait, what’s that out in the yard? It’s so damn windy. Did another tree fall down?”

“Looks like either a small tree or a large limb.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s wearing a blue coat.”

“What the hell? It’s Mrs. Ramsey, our cook. Laying out in the yard. Get the guys. We need help!”

The wind was howling as several residents ran out to the yard. Mrs. Ramsey was whimpering, “Help me. The wind blew me over and I can’t get up.”

Three guys tried to hoist up the cook, but she was dead weight and wouldn’t budge.

‘I guess we need to get ahold of the rescue squad.”

“Either that or Richard Simmons, with a crane.”

“This is not the time to make jokes. Can’t you guys try a little harder?”

“Have you ever tried to move an elephant Wolf? She ain’t moving an inch. I wonder how much she weighs anyway.”

Mrs. Ramsey was not amused. “Hey! Quit talking about me like I am not here. I will have you know I have been dieting and have slimmed down considerably.”


“Knock it off. Just get me inside.”

“Wolf, go get several blankets and tie them together. We will pull her in.”

“Oh no you aren’t. I refuse to be made a laughing stock. Just help me get up. And I will walk on my own.”

The guys made one last attempt and Mrs. Ramsey rose from the ground. Just then the wind gusted to 54 miles an hour. And she was back down on the ground.

“Uh, Mrs Ramsey? Didn’t you say you were going in for a procedure last month? Did you have it?”

“Yes, so what. I don’t see what that has to do with anything. I have always been small chested and it bothers me, so I got breast implants. I thought you would have noticed.”

“Well, dear, it seems that you are well endowed now, but you might have gone overboard. You are top heavy and off balance.”

“You girls are just jealous. Of all the nerve!”

The maintenance guy walked by and said, “Oh oh. Not again. Hold on while I get the front end loader. This is getting to be a regular event, eh Ramsey?”

Wolf and Minnie rolled their eyes.

“A regular event? You mean this has happened before?”

“Oh yeah. Everytime I turn on the fan, after shampooing the carpets, she walks by and boom. Down for the count.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“About a month or so, I guess.”

“Does she ever land on her hind end?”

“Hell no, she falls forward, but it’s no wonder. She has gained a lot of extra weight up front, if you know what I mean, and she really needs to do something about it.”

“Like what?”

“Well, girls, not that I am an expert, but you may want to talk her into a breast reduction.”


Nice beaver

“So how was the work week Wolf?”

“We got divided into 3 teams. And we had to come up with names for our teams.”

“Names? Like the Yankees? Or the Phillies? Or the Dolphins? Or what?”

“Yeah. Something like that. Well, one of the teams decided to go with a color: Pink. So they are the pink team. And they all wore pink today.”

“Even the guys?”

“There is only one guy on the team, but he loves pink, so I think he wore pink boxers and someone gave him a big pink kiss on his neck.”

“Did that seem to bring them together, wearing pink?”

“Oh yeah. They were all giggling and happy today.”

“What about the other two teams?”

“I am not sure about one of the teams. They are acting very secretively, but the team I am on is something else.”

“What did you come up with?”

“We are Carl’s Cougars and Beavers.”

“OK. And how did that evolve?”

“Ha! You know I am the ultimate cougar, so when I suggested it, the more seasoned people on the team loved that name.”

“Seasoned? You mean old, right?”

“I prefer to think of it as aging and still hot.”

“Please! So what’s with the beavers?”

“That’s all the youngsters. They love being called beavers. They always laugh when I say, ‘Hi. Nice beaver.’”

“Tacky, Wolf. Very tacky. But just what do you mean by young?”

“Good question, Minnie. As a matter of fact, Kel mentioned today that anyone under 40 is young, and therefore, a beaver.”

“That is discriminatory. If you are a cougar, you are admitting you are over the hill.”

“Right again. So we decided to go with a combination of the two animals. We have to decide on whether to go with Cregars or Beagors.”

“Which way are you leaning?”

“Neither. I am voting for Boogers.”


Fat and Broke

“Are you happy, Wolf?”

“About what?”

“Life. Is it all you ever wanted?”

“Oh yeah. It’s just peachy, Minnie. Real ducky.”

“Don’t be flippant. I mean it. Are you really truly happy?”

“What brought this on? You know that isn’t a fair question. No one is ever really happy.”

“Some people must be. I mean, come on, with all the billions of people in the world, someone must be unconditionally happy.”

“Sure. I am happy. But I could be happier.”


“Well, for starters, I could be thin and rich.”

“And what would you do if you were?”

“I would walk around and show off.”

“But who cares about a rich, skinny old bag?”

“It wouldn’t matter. I could flaunt it.”

“And that is happiness?”

“It would be a good start.”

“I don’t know, Wolf. That sounds pretty shallow.”

“You are right, Minnie. I would really prefer to be fat and broke.”

“Well, we are in our autumn years Wolf. And your chances of being skinny and rich are dwindling. So, I guess you may never achieve true happiness.”

“You got that right. So, let’s forget about this happy talk and do something fun.”

“How can you even think about fun at a time like this? And don’t give me that talk about making lemonade when life throws you a lemon.”

“I love lemonade. Good idea.”

“Do you ever have a deep thought Wolf? Does everything you do have to be fun? You work everyday. Is that fun?”

“Yes, Minnie. It is. You should have been there today.”

“Why? What happened?”

“We were told to quit touching people, you know, invading their space when it was unwelcome. Well, I made the rounds and poked and hugged people and asked them what they thought about the no touch policy. And it made them smile. And I think I saw a tad bit of happiness in their eyes.”

“Geez. And you did that without being thin and rich?”

“Yep. I take that thought back. I love being fat and broke. And you know what? I am the happiest person I know.”


Wild Turkeys

Dinner time, Autumn Years Rest Home

Wolf was chuckling to herself. The residents figured she had finally gone looney. She burst into wild rip roaring laughter. She was delirious.

Minnie finally broke down and said, “Ok, you goof. What’s so funny?”

“I had a hell of a day at work.”

“What happened?”

“I must have had 40 phone calls. And they were all about the same thing. They were trying to call the 800 number for customer service.”

“What’s so funny about that?”

“They got a porn line instead.”

“All of them?”

“Yup. I guess the lines got crossed. Anyway, customer service is located in a foreign country and they have some problems with the language, so no one suspected porn, at least not at first.”

“You mean the porn line was overseas too?”

“Yes. Exactly. This is how their conversations went:”

“Hello, my friend. Your name and credit card number please?”

“Is this customer service?”

“Oh very funny. How are you today? Your credit card number please?”

“Wait. I haven’t ordered anything yet. Is this customer service?”

“My yes. We serve our customers. What are you dressing in today?”

“Are you for real? I need to order some things. Can you help me?”

“Yes, yes. Most certainly. Please do the needful thing and provide your card number please?”

“I have never been asked for my card number before I ordered before. What’s going on?”

“We can provide sample, if you like, but only for 2 minutes.”

“Sample? Of what?”

“You are very very funny. I like you. Would you mind describing your dressing?”

“Dressing? What the hell? Do you think I am a turkey or what?”

“Oh so funny. You like turkeys? I am a very large fan of turkeys. Yes, they turn me on, too. Would you like description of me with a turkey?”

“You are sick. What is going on?”

“Yes, the turkey and I, we are engaging in….oh oh. Time’s up. Your card number please?”

“Just what company have I reached anyway?”

“Oh funny. Very funny. Let us continue, my friend. Very interesting. Your card number?”

“Is this the Wild West Insurance Company?”

“Oh Wild West. Ha Ha. You like the wild turkeys I see.”

“Give my your supervisor. You are ridiculous.”

“So very sorry, but the supervisor is in the Wild West, chasing turkeys. Ha Ha. Your card number, please? I must demand the card number or I cannot continue.”

“Just who are you and what number have I reached?”

“We don’t give out our names, but our company is AFP.”

“AFP? What’s that?”

“American Foreign Porn.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake.”

“Pete? We can discuss Pete, but only with a card number.”


Reading can be dangerous to your health

“Geez, Wolf. You are quiet. What’s happening?”

“I am reading a book. A murder mystery and I can’t put it down.”

“What’s it about?”

“A bunch of murders. And it is scaring the heck out of me. I am afraid to go to sleep.”

“Why do you read that stuff?”

“I am intrigued. And I guess I have a ghoulish side to me. This book is really scary.”

Just then, a loud noise startled Wolf.

“What the hell? Did you hear that Minnie?”

“Yes. It was Gordon. He is going bowling and his ball got loose. I guess it crashed into the wall.”

“No way. It was a gun shot. Get under the table, Minnie. The killer is here.”

“Oh for stupid. Gordon is no killer.”

“How do you know? He has those beady eyes and he farts a lot. Typical serial killer.”

“Put the book down Wolf. It is making you delusional.”

“Did you hear that? Something is ringing.”

“Yes, Wolf, it is your cell phone. Answer it.”

“No way, Minnie. The killer has my number and is calling me to get me to meet him. Then when I show up, it’s curtains for me.”

“Let me see that phone. You idiot. It is your sis, Fox.”

“I don’t think so. Fox is in Connecticut with her friend, what’s his name, Tennessee something.”

“So? Maybe she wants to talk to you.”

“Sure, she wants me to come and get her. She is being held hostage by Tennessee Ernie Ford, a deranged murderer and when I show up, he will kill both of us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Give me that phone.”

“No Minnie. Fox has gotten herself into this situation and I refuse to let you get involved.”

“Ok Wolf. I am going to my room. You are too whacked out for me.”

“I wouldn’t advise that, Minnie. You should never walk to your room alone. He could be lurking in the hall, waiting for the next old bag to show up and then, BAM!. You are history.”

“How do you know it’s a He?”

Pat walked into the room. She was smiling and said, “Hey girls, want to go to the mall with me? There is a sale at Macy’s.”

Wolf gave Minnie a jab and said, “Not in your wildest dreams. We know what you are up to. Call 911 Minnie. The jig’s up.”

Ms Ratchet entered the room and overheard the conversation. “I didn’t know Macy’s was having a sale. Let’s all go girls.”

Wolf eyed the 3 women. Which one is it? Ms Ratchet? No, she was too prissy to be the killer. Pat? Naw. She didn’t have the balls. Minnie? Oh my God, could it be her friend Minnie?”

Minnie took Wolf aside and said, “Come on, girl. Let’s go. You need a good night’s sleep.”

Wolf knew her goose was cooked. She was the next victim. She had to think fast, on her feet.

“No. I am not going to my room. I am going to sit here and finish my book. You three go ahead and go to the mall.”

Pat said, “You seem to love mysteries, When you are finished with that book, I have a real good one for you to read. You will love it.”

“What book is that?”

“The Unsolved Murders at the Rest Home.”


Do you remember your first bra?

“Do you remember your first bra, Minnie?”

“Yes, I do. It was pretty small, as I recall. But then, I was only 14.”

“Do you still take the same size?”

“Are you kidding? Of course not. I have a drawer full of bras and hardly any of them fit me anymore.”

“I have the same problem. I buy a couple and then in no time, they are too small. I guess they must shrink or something.”

“Sure they do, Wolf. Get serious. Your boobs grow as you age.”

“I wonder when the growing will stop. It is ridiculous. I must have 15 bras, and none of them fit right. This morning, I had one on that seemed to fit a little snugly, and while I was at the grocery store, my boobs popped right out of it.”

“Yeah, well, mine is acting up too. The straps keep falling down.”

“I came home and changed into another one, and the hook and eye closure must have been straining, and the whole thing snapped right off.”

“I took mine off. To hell with it. I refuse to fight all day with a bra.”

“You can’t go bra-less all the time. Like when you wear a sweater or a blouse, you would look like a hussy.”

“Get real. No one calls an 80 year old woman a hussy.”

“Let’s go shopping. We can go to Victoria’s secret and ask for advice.”

“Oh sure. Like they would have bras for two huge chested goofs like us. No way. Their bras are those tiny lacy things that have underwires and push your boobs up.”

“Underwires? I have one of those bras, and after I washed it, the wire got loose. I kept feeling a jabbing pain in my left breast and thought I was having a heart attack. When I checked it out, the wire was digging into my skin.”

“It isn’t worth it, Wolf. Just forget about wearing a bra. You will have a lot less worries.”

The girls showed up for dinner at the Autumn Years Rest Home, bra-less. Unfortunately, the Home was serving a buffet. The girls were reaching for the salad dressing when their boobs went wild and took out several of the entrees. The residents were not happy.

“Hey you two hussies! You better contain those flying bosoms. They just wiped out our dinner.”

Wolf took Minnie aside: “Now what?”

“Ok, you win. It’s Victoria’s secret tomorrow.”

“No. That won’t work. We are going shopping, but not there.”

“Then where?”

“The hardware store. For duct tape.”