Previously Published
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10 clues that you're turning into an old lady
by: Renee' Barnes
1. You spend more time removing hairs from your chin than your legs.
2. Instead of giggling at laxative commercials, you run to find pen and paper.
3. You get excited when there's a sale on toilet paper.
4. You wear underwear that's older than your grandkids.
5. Before having sex, you consider whether or not you want to shower again.
6. Your cookie jar is full of fiber bars.
7. You don't wear a bra for modesty, since your nipples hide under your boobs.
8. You only wear a bra to keep from zipping a dangling nipple up in your jeans.
9. Your breakfast cereal looks like horse feed.
10. You don't even try to blame it on the dog when you fart at a dinner party.
Better Living Through Cyberspace
by : Renee' Barnes
ImaBlackettle: Oh Doris! I can quit worrying about money now! This woman from Nigeria is going to split her dead husband's estate with me as soon as she gets the I email I sent with my bank account information.
Dgirl: OMG!
ImaBlackettle: Woo-Hoo!! Easy Street. I never expected to really be rich! This is so cool!
Dgirl: You deserve to have it easy Ima. After all that mess with Carl's job.
ImaBlackettle: Now I can buy that new computer. Heck...I'll buy two LOL!
Dgirl: I'm so happy for you!
ImaBlackettle: Hold on...email...tee hee :D
Dgirl: hb
ImaBlackettle: Mrs. Neguia said I should have half of the $5,000,000.00 by next week! She just needed my Social Security number. Man-o-man! I can hardly wait!
Dgirl: 5 WHAT!!!! OMG OMG OMG! *shock*
ImaBlackettle: Million!
Dgirl: OMG!
ImaBlackettle: Carl can quit his crappy job now!
ImaBlackettle: The heck with that! Our whole family can quit working!
ImaBlackettle: We could buy an island and move everyone there! I'll hire an accountant to take care of all the bills, and a lawyer to set everything up.
Dgirl: OMG!
ImaBlackettle: But, I have to wait a week. Mrs. Neguia is worried that gossip might tip off her evil nephew. Poor woman. I have to be careful to be quiet about this, but you won't tell...right?
Dgirl: NO...NEVER...OMG!
ImaBlackettle: Phone...brb
Dgirl: hb!
ImaBlackettle: That was Carl. God is he ever mad. Said the grocery refused his check card again. He's blaming me for ordering too much "junk" online. His paycheck probably bounced. He can be so naive sometimes. Thank God he has me looking out for him.
Dgirl: Yes!
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The Cab Ride
by Renee' Barnes
"So where can I take you tonight, Barney?"
"Same ole same ole, Trish."
"Awlrighty then....You're lookin' good tonight. Why are you so gussied up?"
"They retired me today. Got some big whooptido get together to give me a gold watch and send me off to the old bone yard. 'Least I get to have a good drunk on 'em one last time."
"I didn't know that Barney. Sounds like you'd rather keep working. I'm sorry."
"Yea well, that and a buck used to get you a cup of coffee, now it might buy a can of soda...if you're lucky. Twenty-five years down the flusher. I'da been better off pushing a vegetable cart than a pencil. 'Least then I'd still have a place to go tomorrow morning. Take my advice young lady, never get old."
"Hush your mouth. You are NOT old Barney. I don't care what your boss thinks, you still got plenty fire in that tank of yours. I know. Miss Liz told me about your flirting last week. Made me blush, made her blush too. You're not old. You're a classic. Some folks just don't appreciate the fine aging you've done, that's all. Now Miss Liz..."
"You know what, I don't wanna go to the bar after all. Take me to Miss Liz's house, but let's stop at the grocery first. I gotta pick something up."
"Your wish is my command."
"If that was true I'd ask you to take me to your house."
"Ha ha ha...you behave yourself...you rascal."
Sitting outside the Piggly-Wiggly I had a chance to think about Barney. He was a good man, always was a hard worker. He liked his beer, but never drank to excess. His wife, Martha, died many years ago. They had raised four kids, all of them moving on to other parts of the world soon after college. Aside from his co-workers and drinking buddies, he was alone.
Miss Liz was widowed the same year Martha died and had never remarried. About a year ago, I noticed her motioning Barney over to sit with her at church. They had become pew companions from that day forward.
More than a few had whispered of wedding bells --more than a few had grown tired of waiting.
I jumped from behind the wheel to help him back to the cab.
"Now, I don't need your help. Weren't you just sayin' I was still full of pep? And here you are treating me like an old fart."
"I'm doing nothing of the sort. Miss Liz deserves those flowers and that wine to get to her without bruising or breaking. I'll take them off your hands so you can carry those bags. Why in the world didn't you bring the cart out anyway?
"Didn't want to run it back inside."
We shared a laugh as his purchases were settled and he took the seat next to me for the rest of the ride.
"So, what are your intentions Mr. James?" I don't know why I asked. It just seemed right.
"Well, if she'll have this old bag of bones, I'm gonna marry that fine woman."
"Wonderful! I'm so happy for you both!" I couldn't help but reach over to squeeze his arm.
He took a deep breath and said, "I should have done this months ago. Don't know why I didn't. Just a dang fool I s'pose."
The last few blocks were traveled in silence. When I pulled up in front of the house I said, "This ride is on me Barney."
"Now, you earned it honey, I gotta pay ya."
"No, you use that money to buy Miss Liz something."
"You're a good girl Trish. Your daddy would be proud of you. Now give me a kiss for luck."
"Well...just a little peck on the cheek...you save all that kissing for Miss Liz now."
I walked the bags to the door, then hurried back to the cab before he rang the bell.
Even in the dark, I could see the joy in her face as she opened the door. She took the flowers and kissed his cheek, then invited him inside.
I drove off hoping there would be an announcement this Sunday.
(Previously Published at: http://www.creativewritinglife.co.uk/new-writing.shtml )
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Ice Cream And Crow
by : Renee' Barnes
I had promised to take my three rag-a-muffins for ice cream, if they played nicely outside while I visited with a sick friend.
Walking across the parking lot I realized how filthy they were, so we headed straight for the bathroom before placing our order.
While I scrubbed my first dirt magnet, a very well dressed woman entered the restroom, carrying a similarly impeccably dressed little girl of about three years old. She made an effort to be sure I saw how disgusted she was with the state of my poor little neglected waifs, before heading to one of the empty stalls.
Thoroughly embarrassed, I felt like gathering my kids up and running for the door. But a promise is a promise, so I kept scrubbing and prayed none of my kids would say or do anything to further my embarrassment before their reward was over and we were on our way home.
A few minutes later I saw the sweet little curly headed child crawl from under the door of the stall her mother occupied.
"Kimberly, don't touch anything. It's filthy in here."
"Yes, Mama." CLANG! Kimberly slammed open the door next to her mother's stall. She stepped inside, then came back out. CLANG! The next door was slammed open. Another step inside, then out again. CLANG! The next...
"Kimberly!"
"Yes, Mama?"
"What are you doing?"
"I'm looking for Poo-poo."
I fought the giggle that threatened to escape my throat, and was grateful my children were still young enough to have the humor of the event go over their heads.
Minutes later, as we waited in line, Kimberly and her mother stood in the line next to us. I once again had to stifle my laugh when I noticed the deep blush on the woman's face.
Kids really do have an equalizing effect.
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Waxing Indignities
by : Renee' Barnes
Miss Isobel is the sweetest most giving woman I have ever met. She has a lot to learn about trailer park life, and I have a lot to learn about her world.
The day she met my neighbor, Carol, will forever be a reminder of just how different our lives are.
Carol, recently divorced mother of six children, all under the age of ten, was running late for a job interview. Since her baby sitter was a no show, she asked me to watch the kids.
Once Carol left, Isobel's first words were, "No one will hire her wearing those shorts. They are just disgraceful."
"They will hire her at Hooters."
"Hooters? Oh, Trish, those poor children... They deserve a mother who works at a respectable job."
"Isobel, waitressing is the best she can do. She has to take what she can get."
I have learned to overlook Isobel's remarks, with the understanding that she really does have a good heart, and wouldn't spout off if she understood.
So, when I was having a particularly difficult day the following week, I expected a retort like those I'd so often heard in the past.
"Why not just give up your, 'freelancing', if it causes you so much stress? You could always work full time as my greenhouse assistant."
Little did I know, I was about to get a painful lesson in just how different our lives really are. Without a word, she gave me a hug and then invited me to her home, for a relaxing afternoon.
She made a phone call. Then handed me a glass of wine and told me to prepare for a special spa day.
The wine was wonderful. Glenda, her masseuse, arrived within minutes and began working her wonders. This included massages and manicures, pedicures and all kinds of beautifully relaxing procedures.
I enjoyed it so much that I began scheming about how I could afford to make this a regular occurrence. Yes, I could live like this! If I sold one story a week, I could probably hire her once a month...
I think of silly things sometimes.
After two hours of the most relaxing treatments in the world, I was almost asleep when I heard Isobel speak.
"Trish, how would you like to go for the gusto?"
"What do you mean?"
"We could get a Brazilian...what do you say?"
I had no idea what that was, but was sure it could only be as beautiful as the rest of this experience had been. So with visions of a darkly tanned young man serving creamy nut filled concoctions while I sat breathing in salty ocean breezes, I eagerly agreed.
NEVER agree to a Brazilian anything!
I should have made Isobel go first. I should have run screaming when I saw Glenda, the BAD Witch, heating the wax. I should have called the cops when I woke up from the faint, on fire, and missing the top layer of skin in a very tender area.
They were called anyway, after I beat the evil demented wax-witch over the head with a potted ficus plant and threw the rest of the wax at her.
I doubt she will ever get it out of her hair. All the better, let someone snatch it out for her. I'd volunteer, but the restraining order says I can't get that close.
I won't go into any more of the awful details, but please take my word for it. Brazil isn't all nuts and suntans.
I don't know how long I stood in that jail cell before Booney bailed me out. I wasn't about to sit. I may never sit again.
As soon as he stops laughing at me, I'm going to send him for some more Aloe...and ice...and 'shine.
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Become A Walmart Wallflower
by : Renee' Barnes
As any mother will attest, as much as we love our children, sometimes it's just nice to go out alone. But by the time the kids are teens, they seem to think we aren't allowed to leave the house without them. I figured out how to fix that.
I told the kids I was going out. This, of course, caused them all to jump into the car and demand to be chauffeured to various parts of town.
Ignoring all the whines, I headed straight for Walmart.
After dragging them to the Ladies Underwear Department, I shouted to the attendant across the floor that I needed bigger panties than the ones they had on display. Then I got into a five minute discussion about girdles.
With my brood still in tow, I walked to the Female Products section and grabbed a Monistat 3 box, read the instructions out loud, then put it back saying, "It doesn't say a thing about a green discharge!"
Throughout our shopping experience, I burped or farted as loudly as I could safely manage, picked my nose, and made sure to call out each of their names loud enough to be heard three isles over.
When I got to the cash register I waited for my items to be rung up, then said very loudly that I didn't have enough money, and left everything there as I walked out the door, picking my pants out of my butt.
I think it will be months before they will want to go anywhere with me again.
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Top Ten Pieces Of Wisdom I'd Like To Pass On
by : Renee' Barnes
10] Most pain inflicted on others is unintentional, but avoidable.
9] No one cares if you don't shave your legs. As long as you wear long pants, no one even knows.
8] The more "together" someone looks, the more they are hiding.
7] There is a direct link between your waist measurement and your ability to survive a famine.
6] Pure water is good for you, but it tastes so much better when frozen, cubed and drowned in the bottom of a glass of Long Island Iced Tea.
5] Money is great, but it will never buy back your soul.
4] The child you punish today, may be the same one that picks your nursing home tomorrow.
3] Family is wonderful, friends are terrific, but family that becomes a friend, or friends that become your family are the best.
2] No matter how bad you screw things up, as long as you wake up, you can live another day with the guilt.
And The Number One Piece Of Wisdom I'd Like To Pass On...
1] If asked how you're doing, don't talk about your rotten kids, idiot boss, or frequency and color of your bowel movements. Please, just smile and say, "Good." Unless you are standing in a puddle of your own urine, or just took your last Nitro pill, no one wants to hear about it.
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"CATHY'S MARRIAGE MAY CAUSE PROZAC SHORTAGE"
by : Renee' Barnes
I heard the news this morning as I drank my first cup of coffee. I almost choked. Cathy and Irving have gotten married.
Cathy is the popular funnies cartoon character created by Cathy Guisewite. Her story lines have consistently contained the trials and tribulations of a thirty-something woman unsuccessfully looking for love while trying to squeeze into a smaller dress size.
Not all of Cathy's readers are single women. I didn't find her until my oldest son had caused me to pull out tufts of my own hair.
Sitting with a cup of tea and reading the funnies became my calm down ritual during my son's time outs. I haven't read her strip in years, but at the time she was a Godsend. Whether my little ball of energy had thrown the cat out the window, broken my favorite statuary, flushed a bowlful of tampons, painted his brothers with shoe polish or fed the dog the meat I had thawing in the sink, Cathy came to the rescue every time.
I think I'll be a regular reader again, now that she will be seeing life from this side of the alter, but some will take the news hard.
I can almost hear the collective groan of my unmarried friends. I expect there will be much wine and cheesecake shared between spinsters as they console one another this week. Yes, there will probably be a rush on Prozac and Xanax and the offices of counselors will be filled with weeping wanna-weds for weeks to come.
Lord knows I am as pleased as punch with my married life, but I wonder if those poor dear single souls realize that there are pros and cons to marriage just like everything else.
Their veil-colored glasses lead them to pine over the fact that a married woman has a warm sleeping partner every night. Removing the veil reveals the blanket-thieving fart machines with whom most wives are in bed.
Marriage madness causes fantasies of romantic candle lit dinners for two. True marriage is more like sitting on the couch, watching football over a meal of beanie weenies and beer.
When the real "it" hits the fan, wanna-be wishes for bundles of joy are quickly turned into nightmares of colic, feedings at three in the morning and enough diapers to change for a lifetime. And don't even get me started on raising a teen. I thought I'd be the cool Mom who was her children's best friend, too. I'll spare you the truth, it's far too graphic to go into here anyway.
I must admit that there is one marital benefit, which seems to have no downside. My husband is always happy to open the pickle jar for me when I can't manage it myself, but then again, the pickle is usually for him.
(Previously Published at Comic Widows: http://www.comicwidows.com/crossover/index.php?link=0030 )
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