Saved By Snickers

When your blood sugar drops below 70, watch out.

The other day I took too much insulin and left the house without eating breakfast.
I was in a long line at Aldi’s and noticed my hands were shaking.
Then I started sweating profusely. I was dizzy and felt like I was going to pass out.
I realized that my sugar was low.
I grabbed a candy bar and stuffed the whole thing in my mouth, swallowed and sat on the floor.
I tried to stay conscious. I could hear a woman say, “This man needs help.”

The candy bar brought me back. After five minutes, I got up and explained to the cashier and the five customers who’d gathered that I was diabetic.

Since I was put on insulin, this has happened to me five times in five years.
I’ve told the women at work that if I start acting funny, please stuff a Snickers bar in my mouth–
That’s my favorite: Snickers.

Visiting Mom

I woke up with a craving for nuts, so I spent the day with family.

My mother is in the Alzheimers unit of a local assisted living facility.
She was having lunch, and I walked up and said, “Hi, Mom.”
I took her hand in mine only to find that her hand was covered with peas, mashed potatoes and gravy.

Things like this gross me out, so I dashed to the bathroom.
When I entered there was another little old lady sitting on the toilet.
Before I could shut the door, it was bombs away with lots of sound effects.

This really shook me. It took me several minutes to regain my composure.

When I sat back down at Mom’s table,
the lady next to her looked at me and said, “You are pretty.”
All things considered this was a good visit.

Sunday Dinner

When I’m the chef at Sunday dinner,
There’s not a chance of growing thinner.
White wine, small talk and cut the cheese,
Dip and crackers, meant to please.
A seafood starter, clams in butter,
“Good God that’s good!” I heard one utter.
Country ham sliced paper thin,
Scalloped potatoes so good they’ve sinned,
Asparagus with hollandaise,
Fold your hands, give God the praise,

But it was I who cooked this meal,
Shouldn’t I be the bigger deal?

In Search of Happiness

I am past forty, out of shape, and yet I am certain that there is a woman
out there who will make the fireworks go off.
I like blondes, brunettes, red heads, and gray haired women. No bald women please.
I like small butts, medium butts, and large butts. No extra large butts please.
As far as breasts go they can be any size or shape, and more than two is fine.

I’m just not choosy any more. I used to like women who were cute and bubbly.
Now I don’t care.
Intelligent, good. Not so smart, even better. I guess I am getting desperate.

What do I have to offer them?
I am poor, over the hill, and I can be a real jerk.
If I can help them to be happy, though, I’ll find a way.

Testing the Family Bonds

It was a family vacation to Nags Head, NC.
I decided to go even though, for the last three months, every time I ate I would get a sharp pain in my side. I lost weight, I felt weak, and none of them knew or noticed.

At dinner out one evening, I had the crab cake platter with fries and a piece of cheesecake. When we left, we were packed into my brothers brand new Audi wagon.
The pain hit bad, and I instantly vomited on the windshield and dash.
The car went from laughter to silence and shock.
I said, “I’m sorry. I’m sick–I don’t know what’s the matter.”

I was trying to wipe off the horrendous display of crab cake dinner.
The new car smell was gone.
The next night I had emergency gall bladder surgery.

There have been times in my life that I have given family members reasons to not speak to me for three or four years. Right now everything is cool.

Time to Try Marijuana

At ninety-two, my father’s health is deteriorating.
I live with him. I’m tired of him. I want to smack him.
I think it is time to try marijuana.

My boss scolded me three times at work today. She yelled, “Your broccoli was nearly unchewable. Your peanut butter icing was supposed to be chocolate, and you put a can in the garbage that should’ve been recycled.”
I think it is time to try marijuana.

My mental health is getting shaky again.
I quit the gym and figure that by the end of summer I may be a mindless blob of fat.
My attempts at positive thinking have not panned out.
I think it is time to try marijuana.

Marijuana will soon be legal in my state.
I think it is time to try marijuana.

The Devil Made Me Do It

I have never had a great respect for authority.

In class at St. Johns Elementary, my third grade teacher, Sister Raymond Marie had smacked my best friend Rob twice. I got up from my desk and punched her in the stomach. My suspension from school was thwarted by my mother’s visit to the principal’s office. She charmed Sister Marianna.

So, when they called me into the office, I was told I must apologize to Sister Raymond Marie, which I did. I also had to write on the chalkboard one hundred times, THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT.

I was a sinner then and still do occasionally sin.

The Birds and the Bees

Ah springtime! The birds and the bees.
Love makes the world go round, and love of food made me get round.
Underneath a few inches of fat, the juices are still flowing.
I’m not as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was.
I’m going on vacation with an old flame in June, and,
if I play my cards right and get the booze flowing, we may go all the way.

The last time I had sex I was really scared–
I was all by myself in the dark.

The Dead Man’s Dollars

Old John was in our backyard. He sometimes walked over from Montevue nursing home to rake leaves in our yard. He mumbled because he had no teeth. He had a hunchback, and on this day he seemed troubled.
“Are you alright Old John?” I asked him.

“Man in field. Took his wallet, shook his hand.”

Old John mumbled this to me, and pulled a wallet from his front pocket and held it out to me. Old John’s brain wasn’t working like it used to. I was nine-years-old, already in my prime.
I grabbed that wallet, which had over fifty dollars in it and a red stain on it. I showed it to Mike, my eight-year-old friend.
We decided to follow Old John back into the field.

Old John could walk pretty fast for an old hunchback. My short fat legs had to scramble to keep up.
I was about to see my first dead man.
Cruising on his motorcycle, this poor fellow had smacked into a telephone pole near Clifton Road, and he came to rest in a field. When we spotted the dead man I could see his face was disfigured, and I yelled “Stop, Mike. Don’t look at him–stay here.”

I ran across Clifton Road and banged on the Long’s front door. Sarah Long came to the door in a small bikini. The sight of her body eased my mind from the sight of the dead man’s face.
I told her there was a dead man across the street. She said, “Yeah right,” and tried to close the door. I convinced her to help me.
She walked out a ways, looked over the hill and saw an old hunchback bent over a dead man with no face. She screamed, ran back to her house and made the proper calls.

I gave the wallet back to Old John minus ten dollars.
Mike and I later that day had banana splits on me. You got to love ice cream.

spring

What I need more than bling-bling

The rejuvenating power of spring

I haven’t got money, and no one to call honey.

With spring my quest for love is renewed.

With a little luck I could get screwed.

Say I am rude, if you please.

to me it is just the birds and the bees.