What kind of vacation is that?

“What did you think of the Thanksgiving parade, Wolf?”


“Too much singing.  What happened to a good old fashioned parade with bands and floats and horses?  Parades are not what they used to be.”


“Did you enjoy your dinner?”


“I ate too much.  I said I was not going to eat like a wild idiot, but I did.  Preparing the meal:  6 hours.  Eating time:  20 minutes.  And then there were the dishes.”


“There were a lot of good movies on TV yesterday.  Did you watch any?”


“Yeah.  A real American family story, The God Father.  On the most traditional family holiday of the year, I watched the God Father.”


“Did you get up early to go shopping on Black Friday?”


“Yeah.  I stayed in my pjs and shopped on line.  I was up at the crack of dawn, warm and toasty, sipping coffee and looking at all the bargains.  No lines, no fighting, no crowds. My kind of black Friday.”


“Did you think about work this week while you were on vacation?”


“After all these years of working, Minnie, when I am on vacation, I have learned to let it go.  I will be back next week, and most likely, nothing has changed.”


“Did you do anything exciting this week?”




“What kind of vacation is that?”


“The best kind.”




Are there female turkeys?

“I think I will cook the turkey this year, Wolf.”


“Did you thaw it out?”


“Not yet.  I am not fixing it until tomorrow.”


“Oh brother.   Forget the turkey, then, unless it weighs 2 lbs or less.”


“No, it is a big one.  It is too large for the freezer, so I put it out on the porch,  but it snowed on it, and now I can’t find it.”


“Get the broom and bring that bird in here, right now.  We have to put it in cold water and hope it thaws in time for dinner tomorrow.”


“I found it, but it looks purple.  Are turkeys purple?”


“Yes, Minnie.  They are.  Now, are you going to make stuffing for the bird?”


“Sure.  I bought a loaf of bread and I think I will stick the whole thing in his heiney.”


“What the hell?  You can’t stuff a bird with a loaf of bread.  Just forget the stuffing, Minnie.  But don’t forget to take out the neck and giblets from the cavity.  When I cooked my first turkey, I didn’t know there was stuff inside.”


“What else is in there?”


“Well, there could be turkey eggs, I guess.   If it is a female bird.”


“I thought all turkeys were male.”


“Only the humans, Minnie.  Now, if that bird doesn’t thaw out by tomorrow at noon, we better come up with another plan.”


“Like what?”


“I am not eating a half frozen, raw bird, Minnie.  What else do we have to eat?”


“Well, we have a loaf of bread.”


“Great.  We will have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”


“What kind of dinner is that for Thanksgiving?”


“Let’s just say it is non traditional, but quite tasty, nevertheless. As they say, don’t have a bird, Minnie.  Thanksgiving is not a meal.  It is a day of reflection and gratitude.  That’s why it is my favorite holiday.”






The list

“Ok, give my your list.  You have that thankful list every year. Spit it out.”


“Shut up, Minnie.  My list is private this year.”


“Have another glass of wine, and it won’t be private for long.”


“My lips are sealed.  Wine or no wine.  I will not have you pooh poohing my list this year.”


“It’s probably the same:  You are thankful for your health, your family, your friends,  and your pets.”


“Nope.  This year is different.”


“How so?”


“I am thankful I am still living.”


“Ok, at your age, you should be.  I can understand that.”


“No, you moron, I mean living. I am still enjoying my life, and refuse to give in to the aches and pains that we oldies experience every day.  I may have slowed down, but I am still giving it hell.”


“At some point in time, that continuous partying has got to wear you down.  I see another wrinkle on your face every day.  Quite frightening.”


“I don’t have to look at it, so what do I care?   As long as I can keep on keeping on, I am thankful.”


“That’s your list?  One thing?  How shallow is that? Not to mention, self serving.”


“Yup, that’s me. Half dead, half in the bag, half baked and half crazy.”


“Just what is the secret to your enjoyment of life, anyway, Wolf?”


“The half crazy part.  I lie.  I am crazy as a plucked turkey, just not as cute.”







Why is it when I have a day off, I get up early?


The pilgrims celebrated Thanksgiving with venison.  Where did the turkey come from?


I have a closet full of clothes, all different sizes.  Do I really think I will be a size 8 again?  Ever?


Do you realize that more people can recite the lines in Christmas Vacation than those who can recite the Gettysburg Address?


Fine wine is great, but after a bottle or two, does it really matter if the wine is fine?


When the power goes out, do you still flip on the light switch?


If snow is in the forecast,  who buys all that bread?  And why?


Good morning, good night.  Hello, goodbye.  Birth, death.  Nothing lasts forever.


Christmas lights sparkle in December,  and in January?  They lose their magic.


Anticipating a vacation trip  is sometimes better than the trip.


Who can resist a friendly smile?


Character is often formed from attitude.


If you have friends, you are a friend.


Luck sneaks up when you least expect it, good and bad.


The fire pit makes camping exciting.


Music is all about feelings.


Chances are if your mother stuffed the turkey, so will you.


Loving yourself is the first step in finding love.


Don’t buy a large can of cashews.  You will not stop eating them until they are gone.


Above all, respect others, no matter who they are, or what they can/cannot do for you.










Insulated woolies

“Are you going to the T day parade in NYC this year, Wolf?”


“No. I am going to the drunk santa parade.”


“Good luck with that. It’s been cancelled.”


“Cancelled?  What the hell?  The drunk santas will be furious.  They look forward to bar hopping once a year.”


“Yeah, just like you, eh?  Once a year, my ass.  You party every night.  You don’t need to wear a red suit, and go to NY to bar hop with a bunch of goofy santas.  Why don’t you start your own tradition?  Get your cougar friends to dress up like santa and terrorize the local pubs?”


“That’s a great idea, Minnie. Will you drive the sleigh?”


“No way.  I never have liked reindeer. They are scary.  Besides, what’s with the red noses?”


“I mean the car, you moron.  Can you drive the drunk santas around?”


“Why don’t you just walk?”


“Hey, this isn’t NYC.  This is rural Pennsylvania.  Besides, we are not exactly the youngest santas around.  Where is your Christmas spirit, you miserable old Grinch.”


“You don’t even have a santa suit, Wolf.  So don’t get your panties in a bundle.”


“What does that mean?  Panties in a bundle?  How do you know if I wear panties?  Have you been snooping in my underwear drawer again?  And since when does a pair of panties get bundled?  I can’t even imagine a bundled panty.  And who says santa has to wear panties?  All the santas I have known, have worn red long johns.”


“Long johns?  How did underwear get a name like that?  Long johns.  For you information, the proper name is insulated woolies.”


“And just where did you get that information?  From the Sears Catalog of 1872?  Come on, Minnie.  Get with it.  This is 2013.  The year of the cat. Or dog.  Or drunk santas.”


“I’m sorry I brought it up.  It was a bad idea. You better stick to your normal parade:  the drunk wolf parade.  You know, the parade with only one person in it.  It goes on and on and on.”


“Yeah?  Well, just so you know, I intend to continue that tradition and guess what?”




“I won’t be wearing panties.”





Wolf in Wonderland

“So, you took a week off, eh, Wolf?  What for?”


“To tame the savage beast, who has been chomping on my grizzled remains.”


“Half dead?”


“Something like that.  I am taking a respite, allowing my weary bones to rejuvenate themselves.  Not to mention, to preserve the precious bodily fluids that are being consumed by the masses.”


“Have you been watching Dr. Stangelove again?  Or have you just gone mad?”


“Mad, Minnie?  Just what is mad?  I have an irresistible impulse to choke you.  Is that mad?”


“Have you been watching Anatomy of a Murder, again, Wolf?”


“Shut up, Minnie.  I am an excellent driver.”


“Rain man, Wolf?”


“What are you laughing at?  Do you think I’m a clown?  What?  What am I? A clown?”


“Ok, Wolf, so you are a movie junkie, with a tendency for madness.”


“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.  So beat it, Minnie.  Make my day.  Phone home.  Eat a box of chocolates.  Follow the yellow brick road.   I need a break.”


“You are mad, Wolf.  The mad hatter.”


“Alice doesn’t live here anymore.”


“It’s sad, Wolf.  So very sad.  Here you are, a shriveled up broken woman, with a blazing penchant for alcohol and weed. What happened to you?  You used to be a contender.”


“You want the truth?  You can’t handle the truth.”


“Did you order a code red?”


“Red?  Of course I did.  You know I don’t drink white.”


“You are mad.”


“I’m afraid so, but let me tell you something, the best people usually are.”












Live and let…..

“Hey, there’s a lady bug in here tonight.”


“Just let it be, Wolf.  Lady bugs aren’t really bugs.  They are good luck, cute and harmless.”


“Not this one.  She is flopping around like a wannabe stink bug.  Get me a fly swatter.”


“You would kill a lady bug? What the hell is wrong with you, Wolf? Haven’t you heard?  Live and let live.”


“It’s live and let die, you goof.  And Ms Lady Bug has used up her 9 lives.”


“Only cats have nine lives.  The rest of us have only one.  So leave her alone.”


“Excuse me Minnie. But your cute, harmless friend is now drinking my beer.  And I think she may be a little tipsy.   She is bouncing around and flying into the computer monitor.  And I heard her say, “Hey you idiot, pop me another cold one.”


“I think you may have found your match. A sassy lady bug versus an obnoxious wolf. Both are boozers, but one is cute, harmless and can fly.  The other is a boisterous, bloated bar fly who preys on small insects and young boys.  I put my money on the bug.  She has the upper hand.  She is hanging out, enjoying her beer, and living her dream.  She lives for the moment.  She has no clue how long her life span is.  She doesn’t worry about carbohydrates and sugar and too much salt in her diet.  She is oblivious to danger.  She knows that today might be her last day, but so be it. Life is a lady bug, Wolf.  Embrace what you have and who you are, and don’t worry about the other guy.”


“Don’t philosophize about my life, Minnie. I get it. I just wish she wasn’t so damn cute.”






Cryptic, cynical and not one bit convincing

“Another day in paradise, Minnie.  I am living the dream.”


“Cryptic, Wolf.  Cynical.  And not one bit convincing.  Why don’t you just spit it out?  Was it really all that bad?”


“It was grueling. Frost on the window, luke warm coffee and blood on the plow.”


“Did you report it?  You know that blood borne pathogens are a major threat in the workplace.”


“The blood letting was nothing compared to that cold cup of java.  And then the phone calls started.  Hello?  Wolf?  Hey, it’s me.  What?  I sound familiar?  It’s me, you goof.  Can you tell me why you screwed up my order again? Are you ok? On illegal drugs?  Or just half in the bag all day?  And what’s with not returning my calls?  You better get it right the next time, or your fat ass will be history.  By the way, the last time I talked to you, I heard you chomping on a candy bar.  Very tacky.   You know what, Wolf?  You suck.”


“Please.  Like anyone would say that.”


“And then the next call:  Hi.  Wolf?  Is this you?  Or a recording?  What?  Oh, it’s you, is it?  Well, let me tell you, I am not happy with the abominable service you provide.  I want you to send me a report on why you are an incompetent nincompoop.  And you better have a root cause.  If I don’t get a response within an hour, I will contact the authorities to pick you up and put you in a rest home, you old biddy.”


“Old biddy?  I like that.”


“Shut up, Minnie. And then another call:  Hello? Is this the complaint department?  What?  I have the wrong number?  I highly doubt that.  As a matter of fact, I recognize your annoying, hoarse voice.  It’s you again, isn’t it?  The Wolf or the Cougar or whatever animal you are today.  I demand an explanation.  Who in the hell ever hired you and why are you still on the payroll?  What did you say?  I should do what to myself? Well, I never!  Give my your supervisor.   Hello?  Hello?”


“So did you get reported?”


“No, the idiot called my number again, and I disguised my voice.  Here’s how it went:  Hello, is this the Supervisor of Wolf?  It is?  Geez, does everyone in that office have an annoying, hoarse voice?  I want that beast fired.  She is a crude, evil, member of society.  She suggested that I should perform a sexual act on myself.  What? She no longer works there?  Well, alrighty then. By the way, I didn’t catch your name. It’s what?  Chicken Buttafucco?  Hmmm.  Is there anyone who isn’t an animal in that place?  I should do what to myself?  How dare you?  Hello? Hello?”


“Well, like you said, Wolf, just another day in paradise.”


“Yup. I am living the dream.”



Full moon

“Is there a full moon or what, Minnie?  The crazies were out in full force today.”


“Full moons have nothing to do with craziness.  It’s an excuse for normal people to go wild.”


“Oh yeah?  Let me tell you, it was total mayhem, all day, at the office, on the highway and in the pub.  That moon of ours has a mysterious pull on our senses.  It reminds me of the forward pass, in football.  Shoot for the moon!  The ground game just doesn’t get the points.  So, either worship the moon and pass, or die on the ground.”


“I prefer to worship the sun. The moon is nothing but the sun’s shadow. If I am a shining star, who needs a moon?”


“So the sun is good and the moon is evil?”


“Of course.  And they live in the universe, as opposing forces.”


“Wrong. They thrive on one another. And when the moon is full, evil reigns supreme.  It’s David and Goliath all over again.  And today, David won.”


“Hey, you moron, Goliath is the evil one. He is the moon.”


“And what if I told you, your theory is all wrong.  The sun rules our world, but the moon is the nagging doubt that things may not be as they seem.”


“And that gives you a reason to go crazy?”


“Actually, I have a very difficult time deciphering between what is normal and what is crazy.  I wonder if anyone is really satisfied with a normal life.  Can you tell me what is normal?”


“Look, Wolf.  Most people I know are normal.  They live their lives in quiet desperation, unlike you, of course.  You have a wild streak that defies reality.”


“My reality is what it is.  And I prefer the forward pass.  I prefer to take a chance on a long shot, than to be satisfied with a sack.”


“Yeah, but you could lose the game.”


“In the final quarter, Minnie, we all lose.  I am not there, at least not yet.  But in the meantime, my goal is the super bowl, the final game, at night, with a full moon.”




T day newsletter

Thanksgiving Day News Letter :  To all employees:


Hello, gobble gobble.  And all that jive turkey talk.

No, this Thursday is not T day.  It has been delayed a week, due to daylight savings time and Obama care. So, as Jasmine would say, “So sad, too bad.”  Or something like that. Speaking about Jasmine:  What the hell?  How did she get so skinny?  She eats everything in sight, has a baby and then shows up with those skinny jeans and 5 inch heels and looks way too good.  Yes, we all hate her, except on Fridays when she orders breakfast for all her fat assed friends.


Ok, moving right along… Did you know we have a wild turkey in our midst?  She is publishing comics.  And they are really funny. She has the worst account in the world, and still has a sense of humor?   Let’s all give it up for the gipper.  I mean, the snowster.    Hello Beavers and Cougars!  Hello world!  Hey, has anyone seen my laptop? Damn it all!  I left it at home again. Well, it is what it is. Who need a computer anyway?  Let’s all get together and drink that gorgeous bottle of wine that someone left on my desk.


And if you haven’t noticed, Oscar has been nominated for sainthood.  Saint Oscar, the martyr of all turkeys.  She is so delusional that she carries around a box of stove top dressing and eats it for lunch, dry.  After her meal, she immediately goes into a sneezing frenzy and waits for the “Bless You”  comments.  If she doesn’t hear those comments, she throws her gizzards at her co workers, and pretends she is dead.  We don’t even try to revive her anymore.  All she wants if for Carl to give her CPR.  Damn phony martyr.


Getting back to the holiday spirit, Beaver has invited everyone to her party this year, in her back yard.  It doesn’t matter if you can’t show up on T day.  Beaver has a party in her back yard every night.  Get in the spirit, and let’s all stay at Beav’s for the holiday weekend.  Hell, let’s all move in with Beav.  Just bring your own turkey.  Wink, wink.  And a case of wine.


Finally, it has been observed that our beloved E is thinking about changing her career.   She is tired of the shoddy way that phones are manufactured, breaking all the time and all that shit, so she will be offering a break proof phone for those who have those rare occasions of Mother of God episodes and other Tourette related tantrums.  See her on QVC talking turkey to her fellow CSRs on Thanksgiving morning, marketing her new product.  She will be offering a gift with a purchase: Buy her phone and you will receive a CD on how to put a customer on hold and rant your ass off.


Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.  Oh, did I forget?  It will be mandatory to work on Thanksgiving this year.  We are giving you Christmas off instead.