“Chow”, dear readers. In case you don’t speak Italian, that is Italian-speak for “hello”. What with all this weather we’ve been having lately, my trick knee has been acting up something fierce. It always happens this time of year, just like clockwork. I’ve come up with a home remedy to ease the symptoms: You just slap some Blue Star Ointment on your knee, and you’ll be fine. I don’t know if it will work for you, but it’s worked for me. Of course, if you’re planning to allow your trick knee to progress into a full-fledged case of housemaid’s knee, you would be wise to consider getting a personal mobility scooter, should you be inclined to visit the Statue of Liberty or the Grand Canyon.
My grandniece Tricia is back on speaking terms with me again, after her expression of disappointment at receiving a “Spanx Girdle” as a birthday gift. I thought it seemed the young, modern equivalent of the Bettie Page corset she asked for, but I was (uncharacteristically) wrong. I suppose it wasn’t really Tricia’s fault she got so upset…bad nerves run on her mother’s side of the family. Fortunately, I saved the receipt, so she can take it back and exchange it for something she really wants. That’s why you always have to save the receipt, because they’ll give you a hard time if you try to make a return without it. You should have seen the hard time they gave me when I tried to get a refund for the potato chips I bought at the dollar store. I told the proprietor, I said, “These chips were stale. Extremely stale. I want a refund.” And he said, “No refunds without a receipt.” I told him, “They were stale when I bought them from your store. You have to stand behind your merchandise.”
And so went the conversation. Eventually, he learned his lesson and allowed me to select an exquisite porcelain figurine in exchange for the potato chips. I certainly came out on the winning end of that transaction, that’s for sure. In case I forget, remind me to tell you about the time I got them to give me a mid-sized sedan for the price of a compact at the rental car booth. That was out west when we went to visit the missus’s cousin. She had gone catatonic at the time, which put a real damper on our vacation plans (we couldn’t even take her out to dinner), but she eventually recovered, no thanks to the quack doctors they had out there.
Until next time!