S’up?

Commonly used phrases:  What the heck do they really mean?

What’s happening?                      Uhm…. life?

Did you have a nice….. vacation/weekend/holiday?              Like you really want to hear about it?

I am sicker than a dog.                     Dog?  Whose dog?  Mine?  My dog is healthy as a horse.

Not for nothing, but…..                      Huh?

Do you think the rain will hurt the rhubarb?                       I hope so.  I don’t like rhubarb.

If you need anything, call me.                     Are you kidding?  Anything?

Just saying.                         Yeah, I heard you.

My bad.                           Oh how profound.

Have you lost weight?   You look thinner.                     No.  I am just less fat.

Want to stop for a drink after work?                            A drink?  Who has one drink after work?

Wait.  I am not finished.  Let me get to my point.           Just hurry the #5@5@#@% up, blabber mouth.

What a great pot luck.  What did you make?                         Uhmm, chips.

You ready for Christmas?                                                          I hate guilt trips.

Are you sick?  You sound terrible.                                            Yeah, I am sicker than a dog.

Your phone is ringing.                                   Geez, thanks for noticing. Now get the hell back to work

 

Are you ok?  You have been so quiet lately.                          No, I died a few days ago.

Can you hold please?                                                 What if I said no?  Would you hold it against me?

Do these jeans make my butt look big?                              Yes.

 

Wolf

 

 

 

 

 

A hard boiled egg is divine.

After 3 weeks on a low carb, low sugar diet:

Yogurt tastes sweet.

One glass of wine puts me over the legal limit.

Feeling more subdued.

Easier, each day, to resist the urge to have a big Mac, a bag of chips, or a hot fudge sundae.

Cravings for more roasted vegies.

A hard boiled egg is divine.

Almonds?  Oh yeah.

Check out my legs.  No more swelling.

Soda?  Why did I ever drink it?

Energy level is up.

Diamonds? Hell no.  Garlic is a girl’s best friend.

Let’s order lunch.  Ok.  Can I have a chicken salad sandwich?  Hold the bread and the mayo.  And the chicken.  I will have celery and peanut butter.

My psoriasis?  Dwindling.

Losing weight?  Who cares?  Weight is only a number.

Feeling better?   Hmmm.  Maybe life is too short.  Eat, drink and be merry. Right?

I am ditching this diet.  I live to eat. Or is it, I love to eat?  Or do I eat to live?  What does love have to do with it, anyway?

Nothing.  Or everything.  Whatever, there are no guarantees in this life, with one exception.  You are who you are, and you are here for a short time.

Live, love, and be merry.

And cut out the wonder bread.

 

Wolf

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tomorrow? I can’t possibly start tomorrow.

“Another holiday week coming up.  Ready for the new year, Wolf?”

“I suppose you are hinting around at my resolutions. Right?”

“Well, just wondering if you planned to step it up a notch and get yourself straightened out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You are a mess, Wolf.  I do have a few suggestions.”

“Yeah, ok.”

“First of all, quit working so late every day.  It isn’t healthy for an elderly person to hang out at work til all hours of the night.  Can’t you learn to say no, and quit at a decent hour?”

“Yeah, ok.”

“Then, can you please limit your wine consumption to the weekends?  You throw down a few glasses and before long, you are blogging away, writing ridiculous nonsense.”

“Yeah, ok.”

“Finally, I really think you need a wardrobe makeover.  Get rid of those silly hats, that are made for pre school children.  You are the laughing stock of the universe.”

“Yeah, ok.”

“Geez.  That was easier than I thought.  How about starting tomorrow, Wolf?”

“Tomorrow?  I can’t possibly start tomorrow.”

“Why not?”

“I plan to work late, stop by the liquor store for some wine, and write my blog.”

“Could you at least,  please not wear that silly polar bear hat?”

“That I can do, Minnie.  It’s Monday tomorrow.  I always wear my penguin hat on Mondays.”

“Why, may  I ask, do you have to work late tomorrow?”

“If you haven’t caught on yet, Minnie, you never will.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.  However, I do have a serious resolution that I intend to keep.”

“What?”

“I am hell bent on it, Minnie.  I intend to immerse myself in learning, to better myself.”

“You are going back to school?”

“Something like that.  I am studying to pass the bar exam.”

 

Wolf

 

 

 

This song’s for you

I feel creative.  I am writing a song.

If I were a banana, and you were a carpenter, I’d hammer you in the morning, and let my peel fall off.

Ok.  Another try:

If I were a sculptor, but then again… no.  I’d sit on the roof and smoke a joint.

No?

Here we go:

On the road again, can’t wait to get on the road again.  On the road forever. Damn reindeer.

Let’s get serious.

I’m caught in a trap.  I can’t get out.  Because the mouse was here first, baby.

All right. I have it:

Oh oh here she comes, watch out boys she’ll chew you up.  Oh oh here she comes, she’s dieting, hungry and drunk as a skunk.

A better choice?

If I leave here tomorrow, will you still unfriend me?

On a more mature note:

Come on baby light my fire.  Girl we couldn’t get much higher.  Try me, you idiot.

I love the oldies. They were so sweet:

Little old lady got mutilated last night. Bananawolf of London again.  Ahoooooooooooooo.

One more?

Jingle balls, jingle balls, jingle all the way.  Hey, you goof! Your fly is open.

 

Wolf

Working from home

“Have you ever thought how nice it would be to work from home, Wolf?”

“Haven’t you heard Minnie?  We Americans believe in the separation of work and home.  Just like religion and politics.  If you work, you rise early, get dressed, make a lunch and face the elements.  It’s part of the mystique about working, this ritual.”

“But you wouldn’t have to endure the hardships of a brutal winter, scraping the windshield, shoveling snow, slipping and sliding around.”
“Look, I have 5 winter coats.  Do you think I would be happy if I was home and couldn’t wear them?”

“Just think of the time you would save, not having to commute?”

“My commute is 20 minutes.  It’s not the commute that takes up time, it’s the stops on the way home.”

“It could be quite peaceful, not having to interact with all those people every day.”

“Not for me.  I am the self appointed idiot at work, and I thrive on proving it.”

“If you were home, you could take a break, and cook, or vacuum, or stuff like that.”

“Are you kidding?  I have a difficult time doing that stuff on the weekends.”

“You could hang out all day in your pjs, get relaxed and kick back.”

“Oh sure.  How long do you think I would be employed if I did that?”

“You probably could grab a glass of wine, or a beer, and who would know?”

“I prefer to work all day, get stressed and then head out for a few blasts.  I consider it my reward.”

“So, you wouldn’t consider working from home, if offered the opportunity?”

“Absolutely not.  What the hell would I blog about?”

 

Wolf

 

What’s shaking? Oops, I mean what’s flopping?

“Question for you, Minnie:  What’s the first thing you notice when someone is losing weight?”

“They aren’t fat?”

“Let me rephrase:  Where on the human body is it noticeable when a person has lost weight?”

“I think I read somewhere that is it the head.  Yes, that’s it.  Just look at Beetlejuice.  He lost weight and his head shrunk.”

“I think it is the boobs, Minnie.  They shrivel up and don’t flop around as much as usual.”

“Hey, Wolf, you have only been on this diet for 3 weeks.  And from what I observe, you are still flopping.”

“I wonder how long it takes before my hind end stops flopping.”

“Probably not in this life time.  Besides, you can’t see you hind end, so who cares if it continues to be a weapon of mass destruction?”

“It’s strange, but I am not on a diet to lose weight.  I am trying to rid myself of toxic juices, and I guess most of the juices must have been hanging out in my boobs.  Now that they are disappearing,  I guess the next thing I have to do is get rid of all my hats.  My head will shrink, and I will end up looking like the letter b.”

“You could have a hind end reduction.  Then you will be the letter L.  Your feet will never shrink.  What letter do you want to be, anyway?”

“The letter O.”

“What the hell?”

“If you are the letter O, you can eat what you want, and you will only get to be a fatter O.  Besides, there are other benefits, being an O.”

“Like what?”

“You can’t touch your toes, so no exercising.  Stuck on the top of a hill?  No problem.  Roll down.  Need a new wardrobe?  Hit the tent and awning store.  Need a Halloween costume?  Tie a ribbon on a stick and go as a balloon.  Want a new career?  Double as the Pillsbury dough boy.  Letter O’s are jolly, so you can laugh all you want, and never laugh your ass off.  Oh yes, the letter O!  Self indulgent, undisciplined and happy as a clam.”

“Want a cookie, Wolf?”

“Actually, no.  But I will take some of those left over roasted Brussels sprouts.”

 

Wolf

Every time a bell rings, I pour another glass of wine.

Working on Christmas Eve day.

Foggy, rainy, dreary.

Just think if it had been 20 degrees colder.  A foot or more of snow?

Surprised by 2 lovely hand made gifts, the best kind. Thank you Pat and Candis.

Sampled chocolate covered bacon.  Wow! Not bad.

Very little traffic on the roads on the way to work, or on the way home.  Am I the only one working?

Ordered breakfast.  Bad girl.  To hell with my diet.  Hey, it’s Christmas: half a bagel, egg, bacon and cream cheese.

Wore my santa hat.  Such a ridiculous thing, for an old goof to wear.

Lots of hugs and kisses, from my coworkers and friends:  The best gifts ever.

Wore jeans to work.  Old jeans.  Lee.  Haven’t fit in those old jeans for over 5 years.  Fatty, fatty, 2×4.

Won $50 on the lottery.

Ran into Santa on my way home. I think he might have been slightly tipsy.  So I joined him.

Early dismissal from work.  Yes!  4 days off.

It is the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature is stirring, except for me and the mouse.  2 cats and they can’t catch that mouse?

A bell rang and I got my wings.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Enjoy!

 

Angel Wolf.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Constant cravings….

Sugar in the morning, sugar in the evening, sugar at supper time.

Pour some sugar on me.

Sugar pie, honey bunch.

Just a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down.

Sweet Caroline, good times never seemed so good.

Brown sugar.  How come you taste so good?   Sweet dreams are made of this.

Lollipop, lollipop, oh lolli lolli lolli.

Who can take tomorrow

Dip it in a dream

Separate the sorrow and collect up all the cream

The Candy Man can.

I wanna live with a cinnamon girl I could be happy the rest of my life With a cinnamon girl.

No Sugar Tonight (in my coffee, no sugar tonight in my tea)

Honey comb, won’t you be my baby?

How sweet it is to be loved by you.

Ain’t she sweet? She her walking down the street.

Sweet city woman.

And here I am, on my low sugar diet.  Is music to blame?  Or am I just having a sweet emotion?

Wolf

Guilty, as charged

“Tomorrow you go back to work, Wolf, and everyone will ask you, ‘Did you have a nice vacation?  Did you go anywhere?  Did you do anything special?'”

“And I will answer like I always do:  Yes, yes, and yes.”

“What?  You didn’t go anywhere, or do anything special:   liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“Who says you have to leave your house to go away or to do anything special?  My mind took a break, Minnie, and took me on a relaxed trip, away from my normal routine.   I hibernated like a bear, ate like a bird, slept like a kitten, and laughed like a hyena.  I guess I was born to be wild.”

“At least you could have prepared for Christmas.”

“Yeah, I could have put up the tree, but Puff Daddy would climb it and ultimately destroy it.  I could have baked, but I am on  a no sugar diet.  I could have gone shopping and bought gifts, but my gifts aren’t limited to Christmas.  I am determined to celebrate Christmas in a new way, Minnie:  A day of peace and hope.”

“You know, Wolf, ever since you started on your ridiculous diet, you seem to have lost your zest for life.”

“You may be right.  I had to go to the store today, to buy cat food, and the store was loaded with baked goods, Christmas ornaments, gigantic tray of cheese, shrimp and fruit.  I left with cat food and a roast for Christmas dinner, along with a donation for the less fortunate.”

“But this is Christmas, the busiest, most stressful time of the year.”

“It can be, but only if you allow it.  And I am guilty as charged.  I allowed it. And missed the whole meaning of Christmas.”

“It took you all these years to realize what you had been missing?”

“Some people are slow learners, Minnie.  I may just be the slowest learner ever.  But the bright light is now shining, and it is a star.   For unto us, a child is born.  Unto us a son is given. And His name will be called Wonderful counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

“Ok, Wolf, you celebrate how you want to, and I will celebrate in my way.”

“And that’s the way it should be, Minnie.  My way may not be your way.  That’s ok.  Just don’t ask me to take down the outside decorations in January.”

 

Wolf

 

 

 

 

 

A smoking Christmas gift

“I opened my Christmas present today, Minnie.  An electric roaster.  I was ready to plop a chicken in it, when I decided to read the directions.  It said:  Smoke it, before you use it.”

“Smoke it?”

“Yeah.  So I vacillated between lighting a match and inhaling, or starting a bon fire and throwing the damn thing in it.”

“Oh for crazy.”

“So, I read a little further, and it said:  Take this baby to a car port or a garage, where it is well ventilated and let it smoke for an hour.”

“What the hell?”

This old house of ours is very well ventilated, as you know, but I stuck it out on the deck, plugged it in, turned it up and had the phone in my hand, ready to call the fire department.  I rehearsed my story:  My Christmas present is on the deck, smoking its ass off.  As you know, where there is smoke, there is fire, and someone needs to hightail it over here, before the crazy thing burns up, and I will be stuck with a raw chicken.”

“You think the fire department would respond to a call like that?”

“Thankfully, I didn’t have to call. I forgot the roaster was outside, until I let the cat in, and by then it was a hot smoking mess.”

“Did you bring it in?”

“What?  The cat?”

“No, you idiot, your smoking roaster.”

“Oh, that thing.  Yes, eventually, but by then it was too late to roast my bird.  Besides, I laid the bird in the roaster, just for the heck of it, and it was too fat, for the roaster.  It stuck out the top.”

“So now what?”

“I don’t know, but this roaster is one of the most ridiculous presents I have ever received.”

“Who gave it to you?”

“Never mind.”

“Who?  Come on.  Tell me.”

“I did.  I bought it for myself.”

“Maybe you can return it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The cat is sleeping in its box.”

 

Wolf