My Absurd Life

Feeding the cookie addiction

Why would a hospital gift shop sell rich, addictive, calorie-packed cookies? To create the diabetic patients of tomorrow, also known as “future revenue stream.”

Every week, I visit the hospital to pick up 4 – 12 bags of my favorite chocolate-chip cookies. The higher my stress levels, the more I get. Each bag holds two cookies, which are jackpots of chocolate chips or chocolate chips and walnuts, held gloriously together by mostly butter. Let’s hear it for cholesterol!

I tracked down the woman who bakes the cookies. Her name is Sandy the Supplier. To feed my addiction, I have ordered five or six jars of the cookies at $30 each.

Do the math, and I pay upwards of $180 for these cookies – some to give away, but most to eat. People who know me would be dumbfounded because I’m all about saving money, eating cheap, clipping coupons and never paying full retail. No D&G, LV, MB or CC for me.

And, yet, I will pay a premium for these cookies. It’s so unlike me. Are those nuts or magic mushrooms?

In any case, just give me the cookies, a tall glass of ice-cold milk, a shot of insulin and I’m good. Real good.

Finding a family for a feral feline

I tried to find a home for one of my friend’s most recent additions, another stray cat. This one had eye herpes. It was like the time my co-worker told me her cat had feline AIDS. I was like, “What the hell?!” I didn’t know such a thing existed.

Anyway, my friend paid for treatment and a fixing, then spent a couple of weeks getting the cat used to humans. After the extreme makeover, “Formerly Feral” became “Fabulously Feral.”

I had no takers for this cat, probably because I mentioned eye herpes. You see, I believe in truth in advertising. I think people appreciate that. So if you need an average-looking, not-so-shapely, emotionally needy gal, call me! Yeah, truth in advertising works all right, unlike my phone, which never rings for some reason.

Back to the cat. My friend gave it to a pet store, which sold it for a tidy cat profit. So someone paid good money for a feral cat that will have a reoccurring outbreak of eye herpes. Might as well go to the local Humane Society. You take your chances either way.

The best chocolate-chip cookies in the world

True story.

The conversation needed something … like words to fill in the painfully long silences. When the host asked questions, her guest responded with yes, no or grunt. Desperate, the older woman took out a jar of handmade chocolate-chip cookies (shown below on the left) and offered it to her non-communicative, and possibly drugged out, former neighbor.

 

The troubled young adult ate a cookie. Then another. And another. At first, the quick consumption of cookies dismayed the host because the cookies were $30 a container. But then the magic started.

“These cookies are really good,” said the young woman. And with that, the lines of communication were opened.

*On the right is the equally impressive chocolate-chip cookie with walnuts.

Give a gift, not an obligation

If you give a gift, you should not expect anything in return.
Otherwise, you are not giving a gift; you are creating an obligation.

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Human nature makes us feel obligated. That’s why salespeople bring donuts and coffee to their clients. That’s why non-profit organizations include “our gift to you” – nickels, greeting cards and Christmas ornaments – in their envelopes.

Instead of feeling guilty, you should welcome these freebies. After all, you’ve spent valuable time going through the junk mail and listening to the sales spiel.

In fact, you’re owed more than personalized address labels. We’re talking Morgan dollars, Omaha steaks or one of the alpacas that'll be sent in your name to a poor village in Peru.

Top 10 things single people can say to leave work early

A co-worker can leave the office early every day to pick up the kids. But a single person must work until quitting time, which is regularly pushed back, because there are no kids to pick up.

Single people of the working world: to even the score, try these excuses while running out the door early.

1. 4:30 already?! I gotta pick up Noah and Miley (the Chinchillas)!

2. My irritable bowels kick in at 5, and boy, is it messy.

3. If I don’t leave now, I’ll miss happy hour.

4. Oprah’s on!

5. Mother will report me missing, if I’m not back in the basement ASAP.

6. Driving in rush-hour traffic violates the terms of my probation.

7. I have to pick up the kids my neighbor gave birth to.

8. Grandpa’s been drinking all day and I’m his designated driver.

9. If I’m not home to turn the wheel at 4:44 p.m., this whole town will vanish.

10. I need to take my medication by 5, and it requires a bong.

I am the butterfly

I was about to start the car, when a glorious Monarch butterfly floated into view. Its orange and black wings shimmered in the morning sun, making this magnificent specimen stand out from the dark green surrounding foliage.

Before I saw it, I was thinking, “Geez, it’ll be another crazy day at work, with tons of stuff to do, people to please and putdowns to take. That’s life.”

The butterfly changed all of that. Its graceful flight lifted my spirits. I thought, “This is what life is really about – appreciating the simple beauty of Nature.” I started to imagine that I was the butterfly, gliding on a breeze, blissful and free.

Suddenly, from the heavens, a bird swooped in and snapped up the butterfly in mid-air. I gasped and cried, “Nooooo…”

Sensing my shock and dismay, the smug black bird perched on a leaf in front of me and proceeded to crush the butterfly into pieces with its beak, pausing only to swallow. I felt eaten, I mean, beaten.

With a sigh, I started the car and headed for work. The birds were waiting for me at the office.

The Older Side of Sears

Sears just sent me a “Special Invitation | RSVP” letter. I have been “selected” to preview the new ME-100 – a state-of-the-art, digital, wireless-controlled …

Hearing aid.

OK, I know I’m getting old, but I am nowhere near the half-century mark, like the white-haired lady they show on the invitation. I don’t even have white hair. I mean, that’s what plucking is for. So what if I have bald spots here and there.

And why is the woman so happy to be looking at a magnified photo of her ear canal? You’d think it was her first grandchild graduating summa cum laude from pre-K, rather than clumps of earwax.

Sears should check the demographics of the people on its mailing list. Maybe it reckons only old folk shop at Sears, and since I buy stuff there, I must be one of them. Never mind that I picked up granny panties and a muumuu the last time I was there.

You don’t see Macy’s sending me direct-mail pieces on bifocals. Sure, I’ll need this information, EVENTUALLY, but I’m not there yet. Right now, I have to focus my neurotic energies on my biological alarm clock. Then I’ll move on to cellulite, wrinkles, bad knees and, yes, a hearing aid. But all in good time.