I have a tape worm.

She tracked me down.

My doctor.

Get your butt into the hospital for tests.

I can’t possibly go this week.  I have jury duty.

Fine. You are scheduled for Monday.

Why does my doctor stalk me?

I tell her I will call and make the appointment.

She doesn’t believe me.

The appointment line calls me.

OK, Wolf, what time on Monday?

Shoot.  I don’t know.  I feel fine.

930am.  Sharp.  Monday.

Another call from the appointment line.

Come on, guys. Isn’t one test enough for Monday?

Nope.  1030.  Sharp. And be there.

Why Monday?  Isn’t Monday bad enough without tests?

Shut up, Wolf.  Get here, so we can determine if you are terminal.

I say:  “Aren’t we all?”

The appointment line is not amused.

I eat a chocolate Easter egg and 2 enchiladas.

I am still hungry.

That’s it.  I have a tape worm.

I call the appointment line.

I wait for 22 minutes.

Please hold.  Your call is important to us, but if you have an emergency, hang up and dial 911.

I hang up.

The doctor calls me.

Chicken Buttafucco, may I help you?

Give it up, Chicken Butt.  I am confirming your appointments, on Monday. Be there.

I feel rebellious and tell the doctor that I am so hungry that I might not be alive by Monday.

She says, ‘Yeah, ok, just show up on Monday.”

But I feel fine, Can’t we discuss this?  Get a 2nd opinion?  Meet at the local pub for a drink and a pizza?

Oops, wait a minute, Chicken B.  We have to reschedule your Monday appointment.  We are closed, due to Easter.

I thought Easter was on a Sunday.  Has that changed?

Be there on Wednesday.

I hang up, head for the pizza joint and guess what? It’s snowing.

I check the jury hot line:  If you have April 1 as your jury date, do NOT show up.

I drive in the snow, on the last day of March, wearing my sunglasses at night, and wondering if Tina Turner was ever a private dancer, and if Sting was ever a bumble bee.

Home at last.  The cat reluctantly goes out in the snow, in white out conditions.

I tear March off the calendar, and it dawns on me: tomorrow is April Fools day.

The snow is falling.  Winter should be over.  Instead of a white Christmas, we are having a white Easter.

I wonder:  What is reality?  And what is illusion?

And does any of that really matter?




You exist, but in a spiritual way

“When you sit down each night to write your blog, do you know what you are going to write about?”

“Nope. I just start writing and let it happen.”

“Don’t you think you would be more successful if you had an outline or a plan of what you are trying to accomplish?”

“What?  And ruin my fun and relaxation?  If you want a structured, well thought out blog, go for it.  I prefer a hodge podge of nonsensical ramblings.  It soothes my soul and rattles my funny bone.”

“Are the stories you tell truthful?”

“There is a hint of truth to them, yes.”

“Are the people real?  Or imaginary?”

“Look, Minnie, do you think I could make up these people?  They are living, breathing people who exist among us, and who bring laughter, joy and craziness to the world.”

“What about me?  Do I exist?”

“Of course you do.  You are the monkey on my back, the devil’s advocate, the nagging voice in my head, the straight man, the protagonist and the scape goat.  You are like the holy ghost.  You exist, but in a spiritual way.”

“So I am just a figment of your imagination, right?”:

“More or less.  I prefer to think of you as my alter ego.”

“Doesn’t it bother you to carry on a conversation with an imaginary being?”

“It’s my blog.  When I get tired of your remarks, I cut you off.”

“I think it is kind of sad, your blog.  It really has no theme, no purpose, no photos, no bells nor whistles.   It is mostly a dialogue that you have in your head every night after consuming a few glasses of wine.”

“You want to hear the saddest part, Minnie?”


“You don’t exist until I have my second glass of wine.”

“Well!  Of all the…..”

“Yup.  Minnie, you are a drunkard’s dream if I ever did see one.”






The price of justice: $9 a day?

“Hey, you ready to do your civic duty, Wolf?”

“I am, but I have been called to duty several times in the past 10 years, and all I have done is show up, sit around, answer questions, and get dismissed.  It seems like an ineffective way of running the justice system.”

“That’s because the lawyers dink around for years, and when they finally get a trial scheduled, they lay their cards on the table, and take a plea bargain.  At the end of the day, the 100 possible jurors, who have missed a day of work, shake their heads, collect their $9 check and go home.”

“And so it goes, every day, of every week, all year long, in every court house in the country.  In the unlikely event of a trial, the lawyers call in more citizens, until they can decide who is suitable to sit on the jury.  I have wondered what it would be like to be a juror in a long trial, sequestered from the rest of the world, not able to watch tv, listen to the news, talk about the trial, and to be cooped up with 11 others who are sworn to silence.   And then, if the verdict is not popular, to be hounded by the press, earmarked as an idiot.”

“Do you think you could be objective in a criminal case, Wolf? How about the death penalty?  Could you sentence someone to that?”

“Hey, I am only scheduled for one day, you idiot. And to top it off, it is April Fool’s day.  I highly doubt I will get appointed to be a juror.  The lawyers will take one look at me in my penguin hat and cougar coat, walking around with my big toe clicking, and they will dismiss my axx before they can say mistrial.”

“Then why bother to show up?”

“I hear that malbec is on sale for $9.  And I plan to stop on my way back home, to spend my civic earnings. ”

“Oh for crazy.”

“Not any crazier than the jury selection process, Minnie.  You know, if the county was smart, they should adopt a new policy. Send out the jury notice, with a bottle of wine.  Have the 100 potential jurors meet at the local pub while the lawyers do their acting out, and I will guarantee you, jury duty will become a coveted and special event.”

“Are you saying that jury duty is not a special event, in our democracy?”

“I am saying that it is our duty to serve, but somehow, the whole process seems ineffective and wasteful, and not exactly something most people welcome. It usually results in a non productive day.”

“I wonder, if you were the defendant, would you feel that way?”

“You had to mention that, didn’t you?  Ok, I get it.  Our system may not be perfect, and we are obligated to step up and do our civic duty, to protect the rights of those who may be guilty and those who may not be guilty.  I hope I do get called on Wednesday, Minnie.  And if I do, I intend to engage my fellow potential jurors in a debate on our justice system.  And I think I will leave my penguin hat at home.”







Duck duck goose

Drove up to work.

The geese were in the parking lot.

2 of them, both standing on one leg.

I couldn’t resist talking to them:  “Who the heck do you think you are?  A flamingo?  A stork?  A crane?  A one legged albatross?”

No response, but it set my tone for the day.

No matter who I ran into, I had to ask, “Who am I?” as I stood on one leg and squawked.

Actually, the geese were a lot more positive and amusing than my cube mates.

Who is in a bad mood on a Friday?


Everyone in my immediate vicinity.

“I really don’t want to be here today.”

“I am so tired.”

“Another week is ending….. one less week to work before retirement.”

“What about you Wolf?  When do you plan to retire?”

“Oh let’s see.  I don’t think it will be today.  And maybe not next week, or next month, but it could be.  However, it hasn’t happened yet, so I might as well enjoy today.”

“You are the only person who really enjoys working, Wolf.  What is wrong with you?”

“Insanity, of course. I have an insane sense that everything I do is important, and makes a difference.  I am a whack job, delusional and misguided.   I get a kick out of interacting with people.  And I am silly as a goose.”

“Is that why you are standing on one leg?”

“Oh?  Am I?  Geez, thanks for noticing.  I was wondering why I suddenly had the urge to run outside, to sit in the middle of the parking lot, and to hiss and stick out my tongue.   Oops, I can’t go right now.  I have a voice mail message listen to this:”

“Hey, Wolf, It’s me, Ralphie from the ASS Insurance Company, in North Dakota.  It’s snowing here, but who cares?  It is gonna be 68 degrees tomorrow.  Haha.  I hear you  have had a much worse winter out there in the North East.  I hope you have a great weekend and don’t drink too much wine.  You know I will. By the way, I forget why I called you.  I guess I picked the wrong week to quit drinking.  I am half in the bag now, but don’t tell anyone.  hahahah.   Let me know when you can fly up here to see me….. on your broom.  See ya.”

“What the hell kind of call was that, Wolf?”

“A typical Friday call from one of the sales offices.”

“Geez, you sure have a crazy relationship with your clients.”

“Yeah, I do.  And I love it.”

“How do you get these great accounts?”

“I don’t know, but I always seem to get them.”

“You must be outrageously lucky.”

“That I am, that I am.”





The over arching umbrella

“I had a very cynical attitude today, Minnie.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I was my usual all inclusive self, trying to bring 400 or more people into sync, when I hit a brick wall.”


“Get this, Minnie.  We are all members of teams, within teams and ultimately, within the over arching umbrella team.  However, when we take that too literally, we are not allowed to include team members from other teams, to join our smaller teams.”

“What the hell?”

“Don’t ask me to explain.  What do you think about this?  Stay within your allotted space and quit reaching out to include those who reside in other spaces.”

“What the heck?  Are you advocating isolationism?  Or segregation? ”

“Hardly.  I support integration, and welcoming those who reside outside of our normal sphere, to enrich our lives.  A closed circle can be comfortable, as well as confining.  I prefer to put out an open ended invitation, to those who want to participate and to welcome them with open arms.  The more the merrier.   And the merrier we are,  the better we will all work together, towards the same goal.  It’s all about relationships, Minnie.”

“Ok, so you are on your soap box again.  You can’t possible be serious about everyone working together.  You know that will never happen.”

“Hey, we spend at least 40 hours a week at work, every week.  Do we spend that much time with our families?  We all want to be successful and feel we make a difference.  Do we feel that way?  And do we get the opportunities to participate, to get to know each other?  And to understand how we each contribute to the overall success of the organization?  And to believe that every one of us is important and valued?”

“There are too many people, too many departments, too many obstacles. It can’t be done.”

“It can, Minnie.  And it happens, one person at a time, until we all have an equal voice, in an open environment.”

“Dream on, Wolf.”

“Don’t be so sure it is only a dream.  It just might be the reason some companies survive while others fail.”

“What? Because they hire the right people?”

“No, because the people they hire feel they are special and valued, and they truly are.”




I’m strong to the finich cuz I eat my spinach…

“Can I ask you a question, Wolf?  And will you answer it honestly?”

“Yes, and yes.  I always do. I refuse to sugar coat my responses, unless, of course, my answer might be hurtful.  In that case, I will answer your question with a question.  So, go ahead, shoot.”

“Have you ever been written up?”

“Minnie, Minnie, Minnie, just what the hell does this have to do with you?  If I have been written up, let’s just say, it’s none of your 5@5@%@5@ business.  I keep my write ups to myself, as a reminder that I am in a continuous state of improvement, as I strive for perfection.”

“Well, I have heard rumors that you are out of control, a completely crazed lunatic who gets away with murder.  Is that true?”

“Of course it is. I am the Hannibal Lector of the facility.  I lure my victims in with promises of having friends for lunch.  I thrive on  lettuce shortages and Bon Jovi concerts.  I crave lemon curd and nasty hot kale.  I love being outrageous and ridiculous,  just to hear my cubies laugh.  I have been reported for taking walks through the parking lot, talking to the geese, and whistling whenever Pat walks by.  I cannot resist nor pass up an opportunity to say something unconventional.  Let’s face it: We all think it, but only the crazed say it.”

“Don’t you think that some of your comments could be construed as inappropriate?”


“Aha!  So, you admit it.  You are in violation of the code.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“What will it take to get you to conform, to fall in step and to be a good, corporate soldier?”

“It’s too late for that, Minnie.  I am what I am and that’s all that I am .  I’m Popeye, the sailor man.”

“Some day, Wolf, you will be in a pickle and your sense of humor and nonsense will backfire on you.  You need to buckle up, hunker down, and get serious.  Life is not all about fun and games.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Hey Minnie, one question:  If I show you my banana, will you show me yours?”







Dumb and dumber

Things heard in the office today:

Yeah, I fell down the stairs last night.   My ankle twisted into a pretzel.  I can’t possibly make that egg plant dish for Friday’s luncheon.  I am in an air cast.  Did Pennsylvania legalize medical marijuana yet?

Me too.  I ran to answer the phone and hosed up my foot.  But the real issue is that 30 years ago, I broke my tail bone and my ass has never been the same.

Hey, girls. Mcat is acting weird.  She is singing songs about loving everyone.  Be afraid, be very afraid.

La la la la la la la.    I am the walrus, koo koo ka choo.  I am the drama queen.  koo koo ka choo.  I am the egg man.  Wait.  I am the cookie lady and I am going to sell my cookies, without a license.  Who is going to arrest me at my church?

Freezing rain tomorrow afternoon girls.  So sorry, but I won’t be around to experience it with you.  The princess needs to get fitted for a new tiara.

I feel a lot better today after eating yogurt, with blueberries, strawberry short cake, garlic knots and pepperoni pizza, along with a bag of dried tomato and chipotle chips, all before 11am.  Oink oink.

What’s with Kelly, wearing Tara’s high heeled shoes?   Hey, wobbler!  Take a lesson from MCat.  I’m your Venus, I’m your fire….. your desire.   Ok, so maybe not, but If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing,Let’s break out the booze and have a ball
If that’s all there is.

Stopping by the woods on a snowy eve, the Chicken Butt reflected on her day:

Pour me a stiff one, bar keep. And can you please take me out back and sneak me a cig?








Daddy never sleeps at night.

“Well, what a wonderful day this was, Minnie.”

“What happened?”

“I had my review, and I am so awesome that I can hardly stand myself.”

“What, may I ask, is so damn awesome about an old chicken butt, with a big mouth and an opinion on everything?  And I might add, a penchant for stirring up nonsense, just to get a reaction from your cube mates?”

“Hey.  I have to tell you one thing.  Erica is getting married.  And the 4 of us are going to be her bridesmaids. Now what is the question?”

“What on earth does this have to do with your review?”

“Nothing, and everything. You see, the 5 of us in the back room are extraordinarily gifted.  Take Pat, for example.  The Pope has thrown in her name for sainthood.  She is the modern Joan of Arc.  She takes the sword, and loves it. On Friday, which, by the way, is Italian day, she will arrive at least an hour early, in rare martyrdom form, so she can leave  at noon to pick up Italian food at Mama’s restaurant.  And, by the way, she will be wearing a rose colored dress in Erica’s wedding.”


“Yeah.  Same color as her glasses.”

“I am surprised that the Beaver did not interject her 2 cents.”

“Oh that she did.  You see, she poo pooed my theory that Davey Jones died from eating a banana while swinging from a tree.”

“Who is Davey Jones?”

“OMG.  Come on, Minnie.  The Monkeys?  Hello?”

“So just what is the Beav wearing to E’s wedding?”

“She isn’t sure she wants to go to the wedding, unless Erica changes her mind and will allow booze.”

“How does Barb fit into this?”

“Barb refuses to go unless we all wear purple and do our “what is love” act, while she wears a star on her hind end.”

“What the hell?”

“Moving right along to Candis, she has decided that she will ditch the princess act, wear a  sexy red dress and carry a wounded chocolate Easter Rabbit, filled with booze, as she walks down the aisle with the back room brides’ mates.”

“And what about you?”

“Me?  Oh hell, I told Erica that my review was awesome.  And if she wanted to get married, she was absolutely crazy, but we love her anyway, and could she please listen to some  classic rock, including the Who, and their stellar performance of Mama’s got a squeeze box, before she makes her final decision.”

“You know, Wolf, you make absolutely no sense.”

“Yeah, I know.  But, hey, listen:  Did I mention?  I had an awesome review today.”


Misty water colored memories, of the way we were….

“I took a walk down memory lane today, Minnie, and found a bunch of old photos. What a hoot.  I had bleached my hair, wore high heeled shoes, dresses, and jewelry.  What the heck was I thinking?”

“Oh that was when you cared what you looked like.  Now, you let your hair go grey, wear steel toed shoes, jeans, crazy hats, and fur coats.  You are not one bit coordinated.  You evolved into a hot mess.”

“Yeah, maybe I should throw on a dress one of these days when I go to work.   You know, surprise everyone, make their day.”

“How about some makeup?  You could at least try to make yourself look presentable.”

“I don’t know about that, Minnie.  Have you ever seen an old bag with makeup? Especially rouge.  Pale white wrinkled skin, black mascara and bright red cheeks.  It is one of the most frightening things in the world.”

“There is only one thing more frightening than that:  A 60+ old bag in a bikini.”

“That reminds me.  I need a new swim suit, for my vacation.   I wonder if I should get a one piece or a two piece or what.”

“You aren’t thinking of going swimming in Lake Superior in May, are you?  The lake will still be frozen.”

“Ok, that’s right.  I will just wear my bear fur coat, take a quick dip and come out smelling like a wet dog.”

“You better watch out or you will be mistaken for one of those dogs in the Iditarod race, and you will end up in Alaska.”

“You know, I haven’t been to Minnesota in a long time.  I bet everyone still thinks of me as a hot blonde in high heeled shoes and mini skirts.”

“Hey, Wolf, face it, you never were that hot.  Now you are ice cold.”

“Oh well, I just might spruce up a tad, take it up a notch and get some new yoga pants.”

“Now you’re talking.   And don’t forget to get a pair of those sneakers with the blinking lights, so you can cross the streets when you are half in the bag, and still be visible.”

“I can’t wait Minnie.  I can see it now:   Breaking news:  The Wolf returns to Minnesota, as an endangered species, carrying on like a lunatic and leaving the state howling. She is returning to her natural habitat in Pennsylvania, disguised as a cougar.  Note;  In Pennsylvania, the cougar is not considered an endangered species.  The cougar is just plain dangerous.”





The E Rabbit and E.

The Easter Rabbit was at the grocery store today.

Kids were lined up to get their pictures taken with the goofy rabbit.

All the check out people were wearing pink ears.

While I was in line, the plastic container of blueberries in my cart, opened, and there were blueberries everywhere.

The elderly check out lady, with the pink ears, told me to get another container.

I had to walk by that goofy rabbit.

The rabbit was a little strange looking, as he sat on a couch with a screaming child.

I decided to talk to the rabbit.

“Hey, Bunny, having a rough day, aren’t you?  Did you ever, in your wildest dreams, imagine that when you reached bunny status, that kids would be afraid of you?  That your rabbit costume could be just a little too overwhelming for a 2 year old?  Look at you.  The goofy tooth, hanging out of your mouth, the fake carrot in your hand, and those giant ears.  Actually, I am half scared of you.  Is this your full time job?  If it is, have you considered taking it up a notch, ditching the rabbit act and moving on to the fat man in red?”

The rabbit was silent.

I continued:  “Let’s face it.  Kids love Santa.  He is jolly, smells like booze and gives the kids presents.  This Easter gig is over the top.  A 6 foot rabbit, who doesn’t talk, and has one tooth is not exactly attractive to anyone, even a kid.  Maybe you ought to consider a career change.”

The rabbit got up from his couch and handed in his carrot.

I ran into him later, at the pub.

He was out of costume, but I knew it was the rabbit guy, as he still had the tooth issue.

However, I was quite encouraged.  He had changed into a red outfit, smelled like booze and kept saying, “Ho, Ho, Ho.”

There were 3 of us old gals in the pub.  We beat the #%@% out of him, for calling us hos.

From what I understand, the ex rabbit  ( and wannabe Santa) has moved on to a new endeavor.  He bought a ground hog outfit and showed up in Allentown, Pa on the 2nd day of spring.

Unfortunately, he was deported to Bethlehem, Pa, where there is a shortage of parking spots, lettuce and coffee.

He is now parading around as a drama queen and found his soul mate, E, at the coffee shop.

Now, if only he could have a coach hand bag…..