A Homemade Costume for Halloween

It was Halloween, and my mother, not one to buy costumes, had wrapped my entire body with toilet paper and a roll of masking tape.
She said that I was the Mummy and that I should go with the neighbors and get candy. I was not one to argue, and, at six years old, the word candy excited me.

Halfway to my neighbors it started pouring rain. By the time I got to the Holtzinger’s house, someone commented that I looked like a fat blob of wet Kleenex.
Nothing bothered me on Halloween though–not the cold wind, the rain, or being around the neighbors and their rough comments. The amounts of candy we received kept me in an elated mood.
I was happy, and the candy kept me going.

Remember My Secrets

I don’t care if the world knows my secrets.

Most people are so self-centered these days that they don’t care what your secrets are anyway.  The rest might talk about you, and this may end up being a good thing.

I’m worried that I might die one day, and three days later nobody mentions my name ever again.  So having people talk about me is a good thing, and I may start divulging my secrets in the near future.

Learning to Love Myself

There is a lot about life that I haven’t learned.
I have never known the joy of marriage. The one girl I was close to marrying was already married.
I have never known the love of a father for his children.
I have never changed a diaper.
(I’m not worried if I don’t learn to do this. If it happens that’s just my bad luck.)

When asked once if I have learned to love myself, I said, yes, sometimes late at night.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow when I wake, I’m going to look in the mirror and say, “Damn, you are a good looking man,” some positive reinforcement right off the bat.
Tomorrow, after some vigorous exercise, I will have a tremendous bowel movement, followed by a long hot shower, where I’m going to wash everything.
Tomorrow when someone at work does something stupid and devious, which reflects badly on me as their supervisor, I will have the courage to confront them, even if it is a large, mean woman.

Tomorrow, I’m going to be positive, happy, confident, energetic, and witty.
Tomorrow, tomorrow , I love you, tomorrow. You’re only a day away.

Caution: Dieting Disaster Ahead

After scrupulously following the Nutrisystem diet for three days,
I broke down and ate seven chocolate eclairs in the parking lot at 7-Eleven.
The first four went down fast, then three more with a chocolate milk chaser.
Anybody walking through that parking lot witnessed a pastry massacre of immense proportions.

The heartburn was incredible. Later I achieved my highest blood sugar reading ever.
The physical symptoms paled in comparison to the mental anguish I felt knowing that my dream of being thin was shattered once again.

Bear With Me

I am going to complain a little bit, so bear with me.
I now have to wear reading glasses to cut my toenails.
Sometimes, when I get up from a sitting or lying position, I get dizzy. When I was younger I tried to self-induce this feeling, but now it is awful. If I fall in the tub, I could break the faucet off or fall through the wall.
I can’t fall asleep without taking a costly pill. I haven’t had a good nap for years. When I wake up in the morning my first eight or nine thoughts are negative, and, after I sit up, they get worse.

Other than that things are going well. Thank you for letting me vent.

Tomorrow Might Be Better

I can’t take it anymore. People are driving me nuts.
I think I’m losing my grip on reality.
I may soon go off my rocker. I’m loco-loco.

If I snap, I hope that I don’t smack a policeman.
I might rob a 7-11 with a super-soaker squirt gun.
I will go to sleep soon.
Tomorrow is another day.

Aunt Sity’s Simple Salad

My Aunt Sity was a fabulous cook–everything she made was delicious. Her ginger snaps were a thing of beauty. When I looked into her fridge, I thought I had seen Heaven.

Even her salad so simple and good.
*Chop one head of iceberg lettuce bite size.*

Aunt Sity might serve this salad with a platter of fried chicken and some homemade biscuits.
*Chop one medium yellow onion and mix with lettuce.*

Aunt Sity’s salad was fattening as was almost everything she made.
*Chop five hard boiled eggs, add to salad and refrigerate.*

Aunt Sity lived her whole life in the same house. Her husband worked on the train that passed by her house every day.
*Combine 4 Tbsp. catsup, 4 Tbsp. mustard, 4 Tbsp. mayonnaise, 2 Tbsp. sugar, salt and
pepper. Mix well with salad and serve.*

Aunt Sity had a long, happy, life. She loved to eat her cooking and so did I.

Driving With Grandma

When I rode anywhere with Grandma Ruth driving,
I sat in the backseat with my seat belt securely fastened.

We were coming out of the Montgomery Ward parking lot, cruising uphill to a stop sign.
Grandma messed up and put the car in reverse, backed up and smacked the car behind us rather hard.
I yelled, “Grandma, the car is in reverse! You hit that car!”
She fiddled with the gear shift, and we went forward, then backwards, and hit the car harder.
A large redneck was yelling at my grandma, and, when he said for the second time that she was out of her effing mind, she floored it.
We shot out onto US 40 West and narrowly missed two drivers and one pedestrian. The redneck followed us and kept showing my grandmother his middle finger. We lost him by going the wrong way down a one way street. I told Grandma that I would not tell my mom and dad, as long as she took me to Dairy Queen for ice cream. It was very good.

Grandma’s Cupboard

I would enter my grandmother’s house quietly, so I could eat something before she knew I had arrived. Her hearing was good though. “Stevie, do you want some Pop Tarts?”
I already had two in the toaster.

“I’m not really hungry, Grandma,” I yelled.
I had the door open to the fridge and was taking inventory.
“There is Jello and whipped cream,” she said.
I was spraying whipped cream in my mouth and throwing in a strawberry as well.
“Do you want to play Canasta?” she asked. She always beat me at cards–she cheated.

“I’m winning,” she said, “I have 1000 points and you have 49–do you give up?”
“Yes, Grandma, and after that beating I think I will have a Pop Tart.”
She stocked five or six boxes just for me.