TELL IT LIKE IT IS

I was usually a very respectful child, but once, when I sassed my Mother, she grabbed her bedroom slipper and chased me around the dining room table shouting “ Act like a lady!” The ridiculousness of this situation stuck with me, and unfortunately I have been sassing people ever since. It’s called “Humor,” and I find it everywhere.

For instance, recently, after attending a theatre production a woman in the audience said, “The best part of the play was when it was over.”

Yesterday, I answered the telephone, and a man asked for “George.”  I said, “You have the wrong number,” and he said, “Are you sure?” “No,” I replied, “but I know that no one here wants to talk to you.” You have to admit that was pretty sassy.

When driving home from a meeting, one of the women in the car remarked, “The younger members don’t want to have anything to do with the white haired ladies.” Whereupon, my friend, Paula remarked, “Any hairdresser in any beauty shop can fix that.”

Once, when I was on a cruise, a  woman at the table ordered a plate of green beans for dinner. That was it—a plate of green beans! She said, “I refuse to gain one ounce on this trip.” I just couldn’t help but say, “I decided a long time ago not to be the thinnest woman in the cemetery.”

Recently, the weather hit a record 87 degrees in February. I cautioned a new neighbor from the midwest to watch out for rattlesnakes, because when it turns hot, they come out of hibernation. At that, the man said, “I didn’t know they come into neighborhoods, I thought they just live in the desert.” For once, I was speechless. I should have said, “They think you live in the desert and they can’t read house numbers.”

Last week, another neighbor fell down in the street and cut her chin. I called her husband the next day to see how she was feeling. Her husband told me that she had needed 6 stitches. He added, “Her balance isn’t very good.” Then he told me, “Today, I had to take her to the hospital for surgery.” “What kind of surgery?” I asked. “Hemorrhoid,” he replied. Relieved, I blurted out, “Well, I guess that helped her with her balance.”

When I told my practical friend Perry, the engineer what I had said, he said, “If it was a matter of balance, she would have been better off keeping the hemorrhoids.”

Ask, and you just might receive.

Esther Blumenfeld (“Philosophers are good at parties, but not at cleaning up after.”) Lorrie Moore, A GATE AT THE STAIRS