memoir

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Perfect Timing

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Auntie LindaDear Auntie Linda, My older sister is ornery, critical, and mean-spirited.  She’s been married to Reggie,a minister more than fifty years.  He’s a wonderful man, good father and husband, and wonderful pastor.  He is good to Joan even though she makes his life a living hell.  Joan has alienated their children, so that they won’t spend holidays at their home.  They only see Joan when they bump into her other places.  The problem is that Reggie now has Alzheimer’s and is totally at Joan’s mercy.  She tears into him when he forgets, berating him for forgetting and for having to take care of him.  Though he had always been able to blow her off before, he is stuck now.  She gets him agitated and he gets out of control and tries to escape.  She has called me several times to calm him down and get him back in the house or to get him to bed.

Reggie has always been so good and helpful to our entire family.  We want to help him.  He needs to be rescued from the misery Joan inflicts on him.  What can people do who are not next of kin or have no legal rights to make care decisions?  Mad Sister

Dear Mad Sister,  You and concerned friends and family should contact Adult Protection.  If action is not taken, report again.  There is no excuse for this cruelty.  Auntie Linda

Dear Auntie Linda, I have a dear friend, Margie, is a great companion except for for her negative attitude.  If she inherited money, she’d moan about the inheritance taxes.  When I congratulated her on the birth of a grandchild, she bemoaned the state of the world the baby would have to grow up in.  When she had a good report from her doctor, she said, “Cancer runs in my family.”  What makes a person so pessimistic? Look on the Bright Side

Dear Bright Side, Margie is depressed.  Suggest she discuss it with her doctor.  Next time she follows up good new with a downer, mirror it back.  “You just won the lottery and all you can think about is the taxes?  Something is a lot better than nothing!”  Keep it up. If she doesn’t change her habit, maybe at least she will get tired of hearing it.  Auntie Linda

Mean Girl at the Pearly Gates

imageBrenda was a mean girl.  We were thrown together because we were all Sunday School together.  She was snooty but tolerated me the best she could in Sunday School because I was preferable to Mary Bragg, an overweight girl who constantly complained other girls were “talking” about her.  We usually weren’t, because we’d already done that and moved on.  I guess I was a mean girl wanna be.

At any rate, Though Brenda could tolerate me at Sunday School, it was a different story at school.  Sometimes I tried to buddy up to her, only to be rebuffed when a real friend came along.  The thing about Brenda was, she was mad about horses.  I had a horse.  From time to time, her yearning to ride a horse got the best of her and she’d ask to come ride my horse.  I was would have played with a rattlesnake if it hadn’t bitten me too many times, so I was glad to have her. We doubled up on Ol’ Frosty and plod along being good friends as looming as the ride lasted.

Once in a great while, Brenda and her older sister Sandy, also a mean girl, the age of my older sister Phyllis, would invite Phyllis and me over.  One Sarurday, we all climbed on the honeysuckle-covered fence in their backyard and slid all one long, glorious afternoon.  I remember Phyllis asking if they were sure it was okay.  Sandy answered , “Sure, we climb this fence all the time.”  We rode that fence to the ground. The next day in Sunday School, Brenda was mad at me.  It seems they’d gotten a “whuppin” for our afternoon’s shenanigans and Mr. Davis “wished he could get his hands on us!”  I never cared to go back over.

Several years ago, I saw Brenda’s obituary in the paper.  I wonder if she’ll talk to me in the unlikely event I meet up with her in heaven.  I know for sure I won’t be swinging on the Pearly Gates with her.

Ask Auntie Linda, September 27, 2015

Auntie Linda

Dear Auntie Linda,  I live in a decent, not fancy, neighborhood.  All the residents keep their places mowed, painted, and well-kept, except for one neighbor.  The lady living directly across the street from me is a hoarder.  Her place looks like she is having a garage sale all the time.  Junk cars, old furniture, and hundreds of flower pots are in plain view.  She has old appliances and dozens of containers standing on her porch.  Her shades hang crooked on the windows.  Her grass is tall and she has dozens of cats swarming around.  We ordered Pizza the other night and her cats attacked the Pizza Man.  Several of us talked to her and she threw us off the property.  What can be done about this miserable mess?  Sick of the View

Dear Sick of the View,  You can call the ASPCA or animal control about the cat problem.  You can call the city about the mess and junk cars.  They can deal with the woman if it’s bad enough to be a hazard.  You have my sympathy.  How awful to have to look at a mess everyday.  Auntie Linda

Dear Auntie Linda, My dad is totally selfish.  He goes around blowing money like there is no tomorrow leaving my mother to figure out how to run the house on almost nothing.  We grew up with him raging at her about what she spent on groceries and utilities.  She is so beaten down and submissive it is hard to watch.  I hated growing up that way, going ragged while he spent like a mad man.   When it all comes crashing down because he has made ATM withdrawals without telling her, he accuses her of wasting all his money, demanding to know what she spent it on.  He dresses like a peacock, while Mother creeps around looking like a country mouse, wearing her clothes till they are threadbare.  I don’t ever remember her going to the beauty shop.  She does her own haircuts and home perms.  It’s not pretty, to say the least.  Dad criticizes her weight and appearance, saying she looks like a slob and has let herself go.  I feel just awful for her and am so angry at my father.  I know she should stick up for herself, but she’s so beaten down all she wants is peace.  They never go anywhere together.  Thank God, I am out of the situation, but her life looks hopeless.  It is so hard to watch.  I wish I could help, but she says “It’s not that bad and I’d feel guilty if I left.  Besides, I can’t make it on my own.”  Worry about Mom

Dear Worry,  This does sound like a terrible way to live, but you’ve summed it up pretty well.  There’s nothing you can do unless your mom gets the courage and is motivated to get out.  Your dad is not going to change and has her right where he wants her.  Auntie Linda

Joke of the Day

Crawling Home
A guy was sitting in a bar, drinking away. Suddenly he says to the bartender, “I have to go home or the wife will be mad”.
(at this point he was loaded drunk)

He climbed down from the bar stool, and fell flat on his face. The man then said “I can’t walk and I didn’t have that much to drink?”.

He gets up to give it another try, this time the same thing happens and he falls flat to his face. He says “I have to get home some way or the wife will kill me if I don’t get home soon”!

He gets an idea of crawling home, so away he went crawling home. He crawled up to his apartment and slowely snuck into bed with his wife trying not to wake her.

The next morning he woke up to see his wife running in the room. She said “you were out drinking again last night weren’t you!”

The man replied with “NO WAY!”
And the wife said “YOU LIAR!
The bartender just called and said you left your wheelchair at the club again last night”!

SOTALLY TOBER
starkle starkle little twink
who the hell you are I think
I’m not under what you call
the alcofluence of incohol
I’m just a little slort of sheep
I’m not drunk like tinkle peep
I don’t know who is me yet
but the drunker I stand here
the longer I get
Just give me one more drink
to fill me cup
‘cuz I got all day sober
to Sunday up

Joke of the Day

Give Me the Bill
Inebriated drinker says to the bartender (with a drunken slur), “Bartender, buy everyone in the house a drink, pour yourself one, and give me the bill.”

So, the bartender does just that and hands the man a bill for $37.00. The drunk says, “I haven’t got it.” The bartender slaps the guy around a few times then throws him out into the street.

The very next day the same drunk walks into the bar and once again says (with a drunken slur), “Bartender, buy everyone in the house a drink, pour yourself one, and give me the bill.”

The bartender looks at the guy and figures to himself that he can’t possibly be stupid enough to pull the same trick twice so he gives him the benefit of the doubt, pours a round of drinks for the house, has a drink himself and hands the drunk a bill for $37.00.

The drunk says, “I haven’t got it.”

The bartender can’t believe it, so he picks the guy up, beats the living day lights out of him, and throws him out into the street.

The next day the same drunk walks back into the same bar and says (with a drunken slur), “Bartender, buy every one in the house a drink, give me the bill.”

In disgust the bartender says, “What, no drink for me this time?’

The drunk replies, “No, you get violent when you drink.”

Panda in a Bar
A panda walked into a bar. He went up to the bar and said “I’d like a steak and kidney pie and a Coke please” so the barman took his order and the panda went to sit down. Soon a waiter brought over his meal. The panda ate it up, thanked and tipped the waiter and paid the bill.

All this seemed pretty normal until the panda pulled out a gun from the depths of his fur, pulled the trigger and BANG! shot the waiter.

The barman came over and said “Wha.. wh.. You just shot my friend!!!”
the panda calmly replied “Do you know what I am?”
“Why yes,” the barman answered. “Your a panda.”
“Good,” the panda nodded “Now go home and look up ‘panda’ in the dictionary.” And with that, the panda walked out of the bar.

The barman was a little unsure, however he was very eager to be enlighted on the subject of his friend’s murder, so he went home to find his dictionary.

After a while, he found ‘panda’ and quickly read the definition:

PANDA:1. A black and white bear native to China. Eats shoots and leaves.

Joke of the Day

What time does the bar open?
At 3 AM a desk clerk at a hotel gets a call from a drunk guy asking what time the bar opens.

“It opens at noon” answers the clerk.

About an hour later he gets a call from the same guy, sounding even drunker.

“What time does the bar open?” he asks.

“Same time as before… Noon.” replies the clerk.

Another hour passes and he calls again, plastered “Whatjoo shay the bar opins at?”

The clerk then answers, “It opens at noon, but if you can’t wait, I can have room service send something up to you.”

“No… I don’t wanna git in… Ah wanna git OUT!!!”

The Golden Toilet
There was this guy, let’s call him bob. One night Bob went to about 5 bars, and he drank, like, 17 beers.

After he was done with that, like any normally functioning person, he really had to go. So he asked the bartender where the bathroom was, and he went to where he thought it was.

Later that night, Bob was laying in bed trying to go to sleep, and he was thought, “wait a minute.. there was a golden toilet!!” Right then he got up and went out to find the special toilet. He had hit 5 bars that night, so he went to the first one, asked where the bathroom was, when he went and looked, there was no golden toilet.

This continued until he got to the last bar, he was really tired by then, and rather then going to look for the toilet himself, he asked the bartender, “do you by any chance have a golden toilet here?” and the bartender said to another person that was there, “hey! I think I found the guy who crapped in the tuba!!!”

BAR TROUBLESHOOTING CHART
SYMPTOM: Beer unusually pale and tasteless.
FAULT: Glass empty.
ACTION: Get someone to buy you another beer.

SYMPTOM: Beer tasteless, front of your shirt is wet.
FAULT: Mouth not open, or glass applied to wrong part of face.
ACTION: Retire to gent’s room, practice in mirror.

SYMPTOM: Feet cold and wet.
FAULT: Glass being held at incorrect angle.
ACTION: Rotate glass so that open end points toward ceiling.

SYMPTOM: Feet warm and wet.
FAULT: Improper bladder control.
ACTION: Stand next to nearest dog, complain about its house training. Demand beer.

SYMPTOM: Floor blurred.
FAULT: You are looking through bottom of empty glass.
ACTION: Get someone to buy you another beer.

SYMPTOM: Floor moving.
FAULT: You are being carried out.
ACTION: Find out if you are being taken to another bar.

SYMPTOM: Opposite wall covered with fluorescent lights.
FAULT: You have fallen over backward.
ACTION: Have yourself leashed to bar.

SYMPTOM: Mouth contains cigarette butts.
FAULT: You have fallen forward.
ACTION: See above.

SYMPTOM: Room seems unusually dark.
FAULT: Bar has closed.
ACTION: Confirm home address with bartender.

Potty Mouth

 

imageYears ago Bud and I went to a car dealership.  For once, we had to wait awhile for a sales person.  Nearby, another couple was also waiting and naturally, we started talking.  After a few minutes, I misspoke, embarrassing myself thoroughly by announcing loud and clear, for all who cared to listen, ” I’m tired of standing here waiting.  I think I’ll just sh__t on the bumper”. Of course I’d meant to say “sit.”  Bud and the other couple stared, then they walked off.  I wanted to run after them explaining, but gave it up as hopeless.  God only knows what I might have said once I was rattled.

Evening Chuckle

Singing Frog
A mangy looking guy who goes into a bar and orders a drink. The bartender says: “No way. I don’t think you can pay for it.”

The guy says, “You’re right. I don’t have any money, but if I show you something you haven’t seen before, will you give me a drink?”

The bartender says, “Only if what you show me ain’t risque.”

“Deal!” says the guy and reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a hamster. He puts the hamster on the bar and it runs to the end of bar, down the bar, across the room, up the piano, jumps on the key board and starts playing Gershwin songs. And the hamster is really good.

The bartender says, “You’re right. I’ve never seen anything like that before. That hamster is truly good on the piano.” The guy downs the drink and asks the bartender for another.

“Money or another miracle else no drink”, says the bartender. The guy reaches into his coat again and pulls out a frog. He puts the frog on the bar, and the frog starts to sing. He has a marvelous voice and great pitch. A fine singer. A stranger from the other end of the bar runs over to the guy and offers him $300 for the frog.

The guy says “It’s a deal.” He takes the three hundred and gives the stranger the frog. The stranger runs out of the bar. The bartender says to the guy “Are you some kind of nut? You sold a singing frog for $300? It must have been worth millions. You must be crazy.”

“Not so”, says the guy. “The hamster is also a ventriloquist.”

Signs that you may be a drunk!
*** Signs that you “just might” have a drinking problem. ***

You lose arguments with inanimate objects.
You have to hold onto the lawn to keep from falling off the earth.
Your job is interfering with your drinking.
Your doctor finds traces of blood in your alcohol stream.
Sincerely believe alcohol to be the elusive 5th food group.
24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case. Coincidence?? I think not!
Two hands and just one mouth … now THAT’S a drinking problem!
The parking lot seems to have moved while you were in the bar.
Every woman you see has an exact twin.
You fall off the floor.
Hey, 5 beers has just as many calories as a burger — forget dinner!
The glass keeps missing your mouth.
Bill Clinton starts to make sense.
Mosquitoes catch a buzz* after biting you.
The whole bar says ‘Hi’ when you come in.
“Hi ocifer. I’m not under the affluence of incohol.”
You have a reserved parking space at the liquor store.
“BeerTender! Get me another Bar!”