Yes, I need you, yes, I really need you. Please say you’ll never leave me. Well, say you never, yes, you really never, you never give me a chance. Del-Vikings “Come Go With Me” 1956
Welcome to Drivel Over Coffee. The Drivel rambles through this thing called life, stopping here and there for reflection, an enlightenment, some storytelling, and a touch of humor perhaps. All while my brain reverberates with the best music in the world – The ‘60’s and early 70’s. Yep – Lost in The Sixties.
I was reminiscing with my current wife about our Alaska trip last summer. I told her about the time when I was in a public toilet and had just sat down, when I heard a voice from the next cubicle, he said “Hi, how are you?” Embarrassed and surprised to say the least, I said, “I’m doing fine”. The voice said, “So what are you up to?”. I said, “Just doing the same as you, sitting here!”. He said, “Can I come over?”. Annoyed, I said, “rather busy at the moment”. The voice said, “Listen, I will have to call you back, there’s an idiot next door answering all my questions.” I don’t think I had told her about that incident before. Naturally, that got me started with more stories both fictional and real. Like the ones following.
Married 51 years, I looked at my current wife one day and said, “Honey, 51 years ago, we had a cheap apartment, a cheap car, slept on a sofa bed and watched a 10-inch black and white TV, but I got to sleep every night with a hot 21-year-old blonde. Now, we have a nice house, nice car, big bed and LED TV, but I’m sleeping with a 70-year-old woman. It seems to me that you are not holding up your side of things.”
My wife can be a very reasonable woman at times. She told me to go out and find a hot 21-year-old blonde, and she would make sure that I would once again be living in a cheap apartment, driving a cheap car, and sleeping on a sofa bed.
My mom and dad had been married for more than 50 years. They had shared everything. They had talked about everything. They had kept no secrets from each other except that the mom had a shoe box in the top of her closet that she had cautioned dad never to open or ask her about. Until one day mom got very sick and the doctor said she would not recover. In trying to sort out their affairs, the dad took down the shoe box and took it to mom’s bedside. She agreed that it was time that he should know what was in the box. When he opened it, he found two crocheted dolls and a stack of money totaling $95,000.
He asked her about the contents. “When we were to be married,” she said, “my grandmother told me the secret of a happy marriage was to never argue. She told me that if I ever got angry with you, I should just keep quiet and crochet a doll.”
My dad, not an emotional sort, was so moved, he had to fight back tears. Only two precious dolls were in the box. She had only been angry with him two times in all those years of living and loving. He almost burst with happiness. “Honey”, he said, “that explains the dolls but what about all of the money? Where did it come from?” “Oh”, she said, “that’s the money I make from selling the dolls.”
A little old lady was walking down the street dragging two large plastic garbage bags behind her. One of the bags was ripped, and occasionally, a $20 bill fell out onto the sidewalk. Noticing this, a Policeman stopped her, and said, “Ma’am, there are $20 bills falling out of that bag.” “Oh, really? Darn it!” said the little old lady. “I’d better go back and see if I can find them. Thanks for telling me officer…” “Well now not so fast,” said the cop. “Where did you get all that money? You didn’t steal it, did you?” “Oh, no, no”, said the old lady. “You see, my back yard is right next to the football stadium parking lot. On game days, a lot of fans come and pee through a knot hole in the fence, right into my flower garden. It used to really tick me off. Kills the flowers, you know.
Then I thought, “why not make the best of it?” So, now, on game days, I stand behind the fence by the knot hole, real quiet, with my hedge clippers. Every time some guy sticks his pecker through my fence, I surprise him, grab hold of it and say, “OK, buddy! Give me $20, or off it comes.” “Well, that seems only fair,” said the cop, laughing. “Ok. Good luck! Oh, by the way, what’s in the other bag?” “Well, you know”, said the little old lady, “not everybody pays.”
This is an actual letter that was sent to a bank by an 86-year-old woman. The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in the New York Times. I will take this idea, modifying it slightly and signing up my bank. That should go well!
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his presenting the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire pension, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only eight years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank. My thankfulness springs from the way this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways.
I noticed that whereas I personally answer your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become. From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan repayments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate.
Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.
In due course, at MY convenience, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press buttons as follows:
IMMEDIATELY AFTER DIALING, PRESS THE STAR (*) BUTTON FOR ENGLISH
#1. To make an appointment to see me
#2. To query a missing payment.
# 3. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
# 4. To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping
# 5. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
# 6. To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home
#7. To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is required. Password will be communicated to you at a later date to that Authorized Contact mentioned earlier.
# 8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
# 9. To make a general complaint or inquiry. The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service.
# 10. This is a second reminder to press* for English. While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement. May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous New Year?
Your Humble Client (Remember: This was written by an 86-year-old woman) ‘YA JUST GOTTA LOVE ” US SENIORS”!!!!! And remember; Don’t make old ladies mad. They don’t like being old in the first place, so it doesn’t take much to set them off. Let’s switch over to teachers and kids. They are always good for a smile or two.
Kids & Teachers
One day Ashley, a brunette, came home from school and came to her mother and said, “Hey, Mommy! Mommy! Today in school we learned to count. The other kids could only count to three, but I can count to ten….. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10!” The mother responds, “Very good honey.” The Ashley asks, “Is that because I’m a brunette mommy?” And the mother responds, “Yes dear.”
Next day Ashley came home and went to her mother and said, “Today in school we learned our ABCs! The other kids could only get to D, but I can get to K! …. A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K!” The mother says, “Very good honey.” Ashley then asked. “Is that because I’m a brunette, Mommy?” The mother responds, “Yes dear.”
The third day Ashley come home from school and said to her mother, “Mommy today in school we went swimming! But I was the only one who had breasts. Is that because I’m a brunette, Mommy?” And the mother responds, “No Honey, it’s because you’re twenty-five.”
A crowded airliner is about to take off, the peace is shattered by a 5-year-old boy who picks that moment to throw a wild temper tantrum. No matter what his frustrated, embarrassed mother does to try to calm him down, the boy continues to scream furiously and kick the seats around him.
Suddenly, from the rear of the plane, an elderly man in the uniform of an Air Force General is seen slowly walking forward up the aisle. Stopping the flustered mother with an upraised hand, the white-haired, courtly, soft-spoken General leans down and, motioning toward his chest, whispers something into the boy’s ear. Instantly, the boy calms down, gently takes his mother’s hand, and quietly fastens his seat belt. All the other passengers burst into spontaneous applause.
As the General slowly makes his way back to his seat, one of the cabin attendants touches his sleeve. “Excuse me, General,” she asks quietly, “but could I ask you what magic words you used on that little boy?” The old man smiles serenely and gently confides, “I showed him my pilot’s wings, service stars, and battle ribbons, and explained that they entitle me to throw one passenger out the plane door on any flight I choose.”
• Teacher: How old is your father?
Kid: He is 6 years.
Teacher: What? How is this possible?
Kid: He became father only when I was born.
(Logic! Children are quick and always speak their minds.)
• Teacher: Maria, go to the map and find North America.
Maria: Here it is.
Teacher: Correct. Now, Class, who discovered America?
• Teacher: Glenn, how do you spell “crocodile?”
Teacher: What are you talking about?
Glenn: Maybe it is wrong, but you asked me how I spell it. (I love this child.)
• Teacher: Donald, what is the chemical formula for water?
Teacher: What are you talking about?
Donald: Yesterday you said it’s H to O.
• Teacher: Clyde, your composition on “My Dog” is the same as your brother’s. Did you copy his?
Clyde: No, sir, it’s the same dog. (I want to adopt this kid!!!)
• Teacher: Harold, what do you call a person who keeps on talking when people are no longer interested?
Harold: A teacher!
…. Well my friends, thanks for allowing me back into your day. It is always an honor. If I can make at least one-person smile, laugh till they leak, or maybe spit out a drink, my day was not wasted. Until we meet again -TA!”
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