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Tossed Salad Friday

~~ Dementia-ville can’t be found on any map but it sure is one busy place. People come and go, smells swell and morph into nostril assassinators, and noises proliferate. While the patient has settled into a speak less, screech more state, the cast of characters around her are rarely mum or unmoving.

The visiting podiatrist (toenails only — fingernails belong to some other trade association) had a gossipy conversation on the cellphone after the clipping concluded. I have no idea who Barbara is, but it seems she drank three freakin’ bottles of a “private reserve cabernet” in less than a week, and her husband told her in no uncertain terms that he and his wallet are tired of her drinking.

There was the visiting nurse who’d come in towards the bottom of any parking competition. I wonder if there’s any correlation between her inability to judge distance from the curb and her proficiency at gauging wellness.

The aide of the week is very nice, but she sure loves fish and rice. If I wanted to drink my breakfast smoothie with a side of marine saltiness, I’d put it in a thermos, drive to the beach, and sit my ass on some driftwood. I guess that’s a quibble when compared to the horrible, no good, very bad caretakers we’ve had. However, the thought of eating my lunch while the brackish smell of a dried marsh wafts up my nose is making me… urp … urp … urp
~~ Towards the end of 2016, I told the tale of a beleaguered wife whose husband made her crazy over a movie (https://real-lawyer.livejournal.com/2016/12/23/). The wife wrote me earlier this week to say, “It’s about time I share another story.

“Yesterday [husband] asked me to make a pot of chicken soup today. I made sure I went and got all the fixings so I could make him this pot of soup today before he leaves for Texas tomorrow. The soup is now done and I hear him and [son] deciding what they want to order from Domino’s. When I told him I made the soup he requested, his response was, ‘Oh, I didn’t want to eat it. I just like the way the house smells when you make it.’”


~~ Overheard: “He told me his grandfather was ill and couldn’t make it. But last time he couldn’t make it his grandfather had died.”

~~ Overheard: “Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. I have told you at least one thousand times I don’t like cannoli.”


~~ I’m not one for shopping at any time of year. To me it’s tedious to look at what I can’t afford, and it’s time consuming even if I could. But I needed to buy something so into a department store I went. Well, first I side-stepped the woman coming out with three bags and no intention of taking her eyes off her cell to see where she was going. Then I had to walk around and around looking for someone to help me — I never did, but I found what I needed. located right under a sign that said SALE! At the register I was told that it wasn’t on sale. When I looked annoyed, the store employee said she’d go find those items that were on sale, and off she went. After about eight minutes or so I was about to bail when another employee asked if she could help. I relayed the story and not even two minutes later I was out of the store, merchandise in hand, purchased at the sale price. I wonder if the first woman is still on a mission to assist me, or if she ever actually intended to help. Either way, shopping fans, I do not share your passion.

~~ Melania Trump, the woman who utilized an “Einstein” grant to stay in the country after flouting our visa rules is calling other people “opportunists.” That's both pathetic and hysterical (it’s less hysterical when you remember how her parents also became citizens).

Yesterday on Twitter, there was a game of #2018infivewords. My entry: There’s slime on the Constitution.


Dasvidaniya. Have a great weekend. 
J!-E!-T!-S! JETS! JETS! JETS!
LET’S GO RANGERS!
GO, NY KNICKS, GO!

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