Saints and sinners

“Full moon tonight, Minnie. Are you wearing your garlic necklace?”

“I was, but I fried a steak and ate it.”

“Then you are doomed. Watch out for the wolves tonight.”

“I have that problem every night, with you Wolf. I never know what kind of beastly mood you will be in by the time you get home.”

“Tonight, I am in one of those rare moods, one of tasteful moderation.”

“I doubt that. I can sense that you have been imbibing. Am I right?”

“I had to Minnie. It was a gruesome day at work. My cube mates had the full moon syndrome. It had me so stressed out, that I had to calm my nerves before I ventured home.”

“All right, you idiot. Tell me about it.”

“There were pants on the ground, blood on the plow and brains on the half shell. Not to mention, of course, the secret Santas.”

“You know what? Don’t even bother explaining. I am not up for it. I feel jittery when the moon is full. An invisible force, drawing me to the higher elevations, is at play. And, on top of that, I don’t have any clean underwear.”

“That is not acceptable. Just think if you got in an accident and had to go to the hospital.”

“Don’t tell me you are starting that mother thing about wearing clean undies again.”

“You are turning into your mother, Minnie. We all are.”

“Nonsense. You are nothing like your mother. She didn’t drink a drop of liquor. She went to church every day. She had 7 kids. She was a Saint.”

“Wait a minute. I don’t drink drops of liquor. I drink bottles. I go to work every day, and I have 2 cats.”

“What about the Saint thing?”

“It’s over rated, Minnie. There is a fine line between Saints and sinners. I had to make a decision early in life about which path to follow, and I decided the sinners were more fun.”

“There is more to life than fun, Wolf.”

“Oh really? Like what?”

“Like sacrifice and suffering and pain and misery and conviction and responsibility.”

“So when your life is over, you want to be remembered for your miserable existence?”

“Of course. I want to be remembered for a meaningful life.”

“Not me, Minnie. When it is over for me, I hope you celebrate my completely ridiculous outlook and remember me for the smiles I brought to your life.”

“That is really dumb, Wolf. Who is going to remember someone who made them smile?”

“Only those who smiled, Minnie.”



You can’t lose…

“Hey, Wolf, the lottery is wild, a half a billion. Did you get a ticket?”

“Huh? What lottery?”

“The P Ball. What would you do with that kind of money?”

“Probably live like I always do, enjoy what I am doing.”

“What? You have to be kidding. Just think of what you could do.”

“Yeah, ok. I could buy happiness. Wrong! I don’t need a half billion to buy happiness. As a matter of fact, I think that kind of money would not bring me happiness; it could even be a burden.”

“Please. I suppose you would continue working, right? Get serious. You could kiss the working world goodbye and live like a queen.”

“I am already a queen. And in spite of my bellyaching and grumbling, I do enjoy working. It gives me the opportunity to help others.”

“And you think 500,000,000 dollarrs wouldn’t help others?”

“Sure it would. I definitely would help others. But the bottom line is, I am still me. And I don’t need all that money to make me a better person. As long as I am healthy and vital, I will go about my life as I always do, and if I win, so be it. But I really don’t expect to win. The odds are ridiculous.”

“Can’t you just dream a little and think about the possibilities? Sure, it’s a one in about 187 million to hit the jackpot, but you could be that one. And if you are, you would be famous and rich and….and…rich.”

“Yup. And if I don’t, I will not be famous, and not rich, but still hanging out, terrorizing the working world, and acting like a goof.”

“I don’t get it Wolf. You must have bought a ticket. You must hope it is the winning one. I mean, why even bother, if you really don’t expect to win?”

“Who says I bought a ticket? I didn’t even know the drawing was tonight. So there. You are stuck with a loser. I didn’t play.”

“Shoot. And I thought you would at least give me a few million, if you won.”

“Sorry Minnie. Oh, by the way, did you buy a ticket?”

“Yes. I have 3 tickets. I might win.”

“Minnie, if you win, will you buy me a case of wine?”

“Yes, Wolf. I might even buy you a winery.”

“If you don’t win, would you still buy me a case of wine?”

“Is that what you want for Christmas?”

“Yes. It would be the perfect gift.”

“Then, you have it. If I win, the winery. If I lose, the case.”

“You see Minnie? Win or lose, I win.”

“You know what Wolf? If I win, you win. If I lose, you win. How is that fair?”

“It isn’t Minnie. Life isn’t fair.”

“So, let me ask you this: What are you getting me for Christmas?”

“Well, If you win the p ball jackpot, nothing. You won’t need anything. And if you lose, I will share my case of wine with you.”

“I don’t drink, you idiot.”

“Yeah. I know.”


I’m your Venus, I’m your hot desire

“Was it all that bad today, Wolf? You seem pensive.”

“Actually, no. It was good to see my fellow workers back at work, some happy, some sad, some goofy, some bad.”

“Oh? Who are you describing?”

“Myself, Minnie. I was happy that I had a week off. I was sad that Thanksgiving is over. I was goofy as always, and I was bad. Ooops. I did it again.”

“You know, Wolf. People are wise to your oops I did it again. Apologizing after you commit a heinous act is not going to get you the gold star.”

“I couldn’t help it. I wanted to choke the %#%#% out of Oscar, so I asked her to strangle me. I figured if she started it, I could plead self defense.”

“Why do you pick on that poor Oscar?”

“Because she got her hair cut and thinks she is hot stuff. I hate hot stuff on a Monday morning.”

“Just let her gloat in her few moments of happiness.”

“Then I got a wonderful surprise: a miniature beaver. Such a darling little thing. I could have kissed Beavo for my gift, but she was in a funky mood, so I passed. And then E brought me a Christmas Kitty, with a bell, and a candy cane. I could have kissed E but she had a wild attack of Tourette’s, so I reserved the kiss for a later time.”

“Ok, that explains the happy and the bad, what about the sad?”

“Well, it was the look, Minnie. The dreamy blue eyes were clouded. I could see tears welling up. It broke my heart.”


“Pat, Minnie. The fiercely independent free bird who rises above the horizon. Monday kicked her ass. She yearns for a week without Mondays.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“And then, of course, I can’t stand a day without being a goof. I taunted Woo Woo, irritated MCat, teased JC, and blasted Babs.”

“Whoa. Why blast Babs?”

“She took the day off.”

“Smart woman. Maybe she should talk to Pat about taking Mondays off.”

“You know what Minnie? I think Mondays get a bad rap. Nobody likes them. Some even dread them. But when you think about it, what if Monday was called Friday? Would it make any difference? I mean, out of five days, one of them has to be the first day of work.”

“Monday has something to do with the moon, and means first day of the week, you idiot. Well, at least in Georgian times. And Friday refers to the planet, Venus.”

“Hmmm. I have a suggestion. Let’s call the days of the work week something that makes sense: Bad, Sad, Hump, Goofy and Happy.”

“Who do you think you are, snow white?”

“No, I’m Venus. And I can’t wait to say, TGIH.”


What color is your aura?

“Gee, Minnie, I have to go back to work tomorrow, and look at all those auras again.”

“What the hell?”

“I see auras, Minnie. My co-workers. Quite colorful and revealing.”

“I highly doubt you have these psychic powers.”

“Oh yes I do. I see a pale yellow aura emanating from Oscar’s head. She has retreated into herself, Minnie. Complete introversion. Such a shame she can’t communicate with anyone other than herself now that she is a mental recluse.”

“I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Then there is the queen E. She walks around with that imperial purple aura. She has a dream and is pursuing it. However, under the right circumstances, her purple aura turns to crimson, and then all hell breaks loose.”

“I thought you said that was Tourette’s.”

“Moving on, Babs has a primrose aura. It reminds me of a junior bluebird.


“A junior bluebird is always crazy and cheerful…”

“That’s not how that goes.”

“Who cares? Then there is Beaver, the maroon girl. She is her own person, knows what she wants and goes for it.”

“Is Beav aggressive?”

“Hell no. Just bossy.”

“Does Donna have an aura?”

“Yes, she has 2. One is before and one is after….drinking, that is. Before she imbibes, she has a dark green aura, representing great mental stress. But once she pops the first one, it turns to salmon pink.”


“Pure bliss, Minnie. Stoned.”

“And JC?”

“One never knows which aura JC will have. It depends on her mood. She is the ultimate chameleon. I am half afraid to look at her, with that rainbow hanging around her head. Quite frightening.”

“I’ll bet Pat doesn’t have an aura.”

“Sure she does. When she first enters the office, golden yellow emanates from her person. She is inspired, thoughtful, ready for the day. Then she enters the Island and MCat walks in. Boom. Golden yellow turns to amber.”


“She has to summon strength and courage to deal with the royal blue aura of MCat, the woman on a mission.”

“What mission?”

“Her own, you goof. MCat thrives on her missions.”

“And what about your aura, Wolf?”

“I can’t see my aura. I can feel it. I can smell it. I can almost taste it.”

“I don’t get it.”

“My aura is grape, Minnie. Stomped grapes, at that. It just might be the best aura of all.”


Saturday, Sunday, Monday….

“Just think Wolf. It’s Saturday.”


“Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“Brilliant, Minnie. So?”

“The day after tomorrow is Monday.”

“Good job Minnie. Keep going, you can do it. What’s after Monday?”

“I am merely pointing out to you that all good things must come to an end.”

“Brilliant Minnie. And you know what? All bad things must come to an end also. So that’s life. Ain’t it grand?”

“I was just reminding you that you have very little time to hang out in your pjs and act like a moron.”

“Yeah. Instead on Monday, I will get dressed, go to work, and act like a moron. The only difference, as I see it, is getting dressed. Which reminds me, I should get out my winter clothes.”

“What’s the hurry? You could wait until tomorrow night and run around like a crazed chicken, getting ready, once again, at the last minute.”

“At least I don’t have to worry about lunch. I will bring a turkey sandwich.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”


“I carved the rest of the turkey and ate it.”

“Great. So I guess I will bring a pb and j. I could use a rest from turkey anyway. Hanging out with you all week is a “fowl” experience.”

“Aw come on, Wolf. You loved it. And just think, in a few weeks, you will have another vacation. And you can hang out with me again.”

“You know, Minnie, that is the problem with winter vacations. The weather is lousy and I get stuck with you.”

“Maybe next year, you can take time off when it’s not winter. Make some drastic changes, Wolf, in 2013. The new year is approaching and you are in a rut.”

“I can’t wait. It’s the Chinese year of the snake. And people born under the snake sign are wise, intelligent, calm and wealthy.”

“Gee! It should be a great year for you.”

“Ha, no such luck. I was born in the year of the dog.”

“What’s that make you?”

“People born in the Year of the chinese new year Dog are loyal and caring with a fearless streak. They are compatible with people born in the years of Horse, Tiger, and Rabbit.”

“Well, for once, I must agree.”

“How so?”

“That damn Harvey. No wonder you and he are such good buddies.”

“Yeah, but I think the Chinese are wrong. They should have included cougars.”


When I grow up

“What do you want to be when you grow up Wolf?”

“First of all, I don’t plan to grow up. But if I did, I would volunteer my time to a worthwhile organization, like the AWA.”

“What’s that?”

“The American Wine Association. I can visualize myself, sipping wines from all over the country, giving advice to millions of Americans. I would write a blog, “Wolf’s finest wines for the best price.”

“And just how do you qualify for that?”

“I am studying and researching for the position, Minnie, quite diligently, if you must know. And I would love to travel to the vineyards of America, as a mystery shopper. And then, once I am recognized for my fabulous talent and taste, the wineries would beat a path to my door.”

“You said as a volunteer? No pay?”

“Ha! If you owned a winery, and you were mentioned on my blog, your business could blossom. And I am not above accepting a token or a case of your gratitude.”

“I highly doubt anyone would read your blog. There isn’t that much interest in wine.”

“We’ll see, Minnie. I happen to know quite a few wine enthusiasts. Let’s take my co-workers for example. Oscar put the romance back into her life with wine. She shared a few bottles with her husband last week and now they are talking about raising a family.”

“What? She is a grandmother!”

“Yeah. Wine does that to a person.”

“For dumb.”

“JC has been looking for a specialty wine for months now.”


“Yeah, one lined with arsenic.”


“Beaver loves to read and sip wine. She gets so engrossed in her books, that before you know it, she has consumed 2 of those big fat bottles of wine and is loaded.”

“So what would she get from your wine blog?”

“Affirmation, Minnie. It’s ok, to read and drink wine. That way, she could read the same book over and over again, and never remember a thing. Think of the money she could save on books.”


“E likes wine, but she is indulging in a quiet way. She sneaks it.”

“What the heck?”

“Yeah. I love closet drinkers.”

“How about Babs?”

“As long as grapes are purple, Babs will gravitate towards it.”

“And Donna?”

“No problem there.”

“Enough said.”

“Finally, our dear little squirt. I think I could entice her to join me in my quest for America’s best wines.”


“Yeah. But we’d have to move to Washington state.”

“Are you sure this blog would only be about wines?”

“Of course, Minnie. Now, let’s relax and listen to the Doobie brothers.”


Happy T day

“Wolf? Can you be serious for a moment? Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. What are you thankful for?”

“You know what? That is a good question. I asked my co-workers the same thing. They each had a very good answer.”

“You are avoiding my question by deferring to your fellow workers. How come?”

“I want to give you their answers first, before I give mine, to put things in perspective.”

“Oh alright. Go ahead, then.”

“Oscar is very thankful that she is Oscar and not Elmo. I always had a suspicion that all that tickling was not innocent.”

“Oh for crazy.”

“E is giving thanks for being a loser.”


“Loser, Minnie. She is half the person she used to be. By next Thanksgiving, she will be practically invisible.”

“What about Babs?”

“Babs is a traditional girl. She gives thanks every day for traditional Thanksgiving symbols.”

“Like what?”

“Like all the turkeys she works with.”


“Now, Woo Woo is a history buff and gives thanks for the end of prohibition.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“It doesn’t matter. Woo Woo has heard that history repeats itself, so she is consuming all the booze she can, before it is outlawed again.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Never mind Minnie. Continuing on, Pat is thankful that twinkies are going bankrupt. She doesn’t eat junk food. She swears by the healthy foods, like juice, garlic, red wines, steaks, oreos and MCat’s buns.”


“Oh yeah. MCat’s buns are the best in Pa.”

“Did you ask JC?”

“I tried, but she just threw her head back and roared.”

“So it comes down to you, doesn’t it? What are you thankful for?”

“For Beaver.”


“You have heard of the French connection, right? Well, Beaver is my Irish connection. She is my new drug dealer.”

“What the hell?”

“She and I are members of the same club. The Irish mafia.”

“Are you two related or what?”

“You could say that. We both relate to the same thing.”

“And that is?”

“The ultimate elixir, the supreme escape, the juice of the grape, the Irish survival kit.”

“I thought that was a 6 pack and a potato.”

“Not any more Minnie. That’s old school. Now it’s a case of $3 wine and to hell with the potato. We have to watch our carbs.”

“That’s it? That’s what you are thankful for?”

“For now, yes, until I move to Colorado.”



“How’s the attitude Wolf?”

“You ask about my attitude like it is a person or a disease or a separate thing from my existence. My attitude has nothing to do with me.”

“Whoa! I beg to differ. You are your attitude. It rules your fate.”

“Don’t be a jerk Minnie. If I want to have a bad attitude, it won’t affect my life.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of the self-fulfilling prophecy? You are what you think about. Negative thoughts breed negative outcomes.”

“Why do you think I am on hiatus? I need time to brood and wallow in pity. I love playing the martyr role.”

“I would think you would be ecstatic, on vacation, with your favorite holiday coming up.”

“Ok, here’s the truth: I can’t relax. I think I forgot how to relax. I feel guilty if I am not busy 100% of the time, and I blew the weekend, sleeping. I think I may have a modern day working disease. I believe the medical term for it is brainwashed.”

“Seems to me you waited a little too long to take time off. Your brain won’t shut off. It is going haywire. It is a jumbled glob of useless information. Soon you will take on the form of a cauliflower and be transformed into one of the most tasteless vegetables of all time.”

“You sure know how to make me feel better, Minnie.”

“Give it up, Wolf. In a few more days, your malady will be gone. Your overactive brain will calm down. Next week, you will go kicking and screaming back into the hectic working world. You probably won’t even remember how to log in to your computer.”

“Yeah, I guess. But it seems that a week isn’t long enough to learn how to relax again. Just as you get the hang of it, the week is over.”

“It isn’t over yet, girl. Why don’t we go for a long walk? And when we get back, we can make some hot chocolate. And pet the cat.”

“But that isn’t productive. I have to be busy.”

“Sorry to differ, but doing those simple things may just be the most productive use of your time today. Let’s go.”


ET go home

“Oh boy, Wolf, Gone with the Wind is on Thanksgiving day.”

“Frankly, my dear….”

“Come on now, you can’t say you don’t like that movie. It’s a classic.”

“Yup. Just like It’s a Wonderful Life, and ET and The Wizard of Oz. None of them is my favorite. I have other classics I prefer.”

“Like what?”

“Like the Godfather trilogy and To kill a Mockingbird, and Harvey.”

“What is it about my classics you don’t like?”

“ET is a cry baby, the wizard was a phony and then there is that damn bell ringing. No thanks.”

“Well, the Godfather is nothing but a violent movie, with all the mumbling by what’s his name. And To kill a mockingbird gets me depressed.”

“And Harvey?”

“Oh that thing. I swear you laugh at the dumbest things. Elwood P Dowd is a drunk who hangs out with rabbits. What’s so good about that?”

“I can’t help it, Minnie. My tastes differ from yours, thank goodness.”

“Are you insulting my choices? I will have you know that my classics are probably the most beloved choices in the world.”

“Yup. I hope you enjoy them for the 40th time. But I will not be watching them.”

“Hold it! The Godfather….isn’t that on Thanksgiving day too? Now what? Will it be Scarlett? Or Vito? Do we have to flip a coin? Or what?”

“Gee, thanks for reminding me Minnie. No need to flip a coin. Football’s on! And I am picking up a classic to go with it.”

“What’s that?”

“A case of beer.”



“Can you tell me what motivation means, Minnie?”

“It means you move. You do something. You are inspired. You get off your ass and go for it.”

“That’s what I thought. Well, I am not motivated today.”

“I see that. You have done absolutely nothing today but dink around and eat.”

“I wonder if I will get motivated tomorrow? I feel a demotivational phase entering my life.”

“That’s a feeble excuse. I should kick you in the hind end and get you moving.”

“Wait now. I think there are various degrees of motivation. If you work, you get motivated by the ambiance.”

“The hell you do. Ambiance? You get motivated or you will get fired.”

“I’m not through. And if you are on vacation, you rebel, and refuse to listen to the voices in your head. You collapse into a state of dysfunction.”

“Warped. That’s what your logic is. Warped. You secretly want to be a lazy bum, and you talk your brain into thinking it is the right thing to do.”

“I don’t talk to my brain. It has nothing to do with my brain. It is my karma to dissolve into a gelatin mold when I have a few days off.”

“Go ahead! Waste these days. They will soon be over and you will be crying the blues because your days of wine and roses will be history.”

“Roses? I don’t know about roses, but my days of wine will never be history. I just might have a few bottles tonight, to try to regain my motivation.”

“Ha! You and your theories. If you drink 2 bottles of wine today, you will be a mess tomorrow. Some motivation.”

“I seem to recall, from some of my old college courses, that motivation is what causes us to act, whether it is getting a glass of water to reduce thirst or reading a book to gain knowledge.”


“I am thirsty, so I drink. I am hungry, so I eat. I am on vacation, so I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do.”

“Well, I must admit. You were right about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You most definitely are going through a demotivational phase.”

“Yeah! Ain’t it marvelous?”