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Posts Tagged ‘comedy’


What do you think happened? And no, you can’t say global warming.

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Except for the occasional pollution.

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First day on the job, I was told to sit in on a client meeting to see how these Q & A sessions go. It was a phone conference. The client was in their offices and we were in ours. 

The client had about five people on the line, we had one guy, Bill and me. Of course he was doing all the talking. 

Midway through, a woman on the client side began yelling over everything Bill said. Finally, she was screaming things like, “You can’t be that stupid.”

At this point, Bill closed his laptop, picked up his stuff and just left without a word. 

The tirade continued with just me on the line.

She finally ended with. “Do you understand that, BILL?” She slurred his name in a most unattractive manner.

I hesitated for a moment, before taking the phone of off mute and said in a small voice, “Um, hi. I’m Deidra”

<pause>

“This is my first day.”

<pause>

“Um, Bill left a while ago.”

<pause>

“I don’t know anything about the super awesome thingie. Do you want to leave a message?”

<pause, silence, no response>

“Okay then, I guess we can adjourn.”

I didn’t know that day, but I had been introduced to the woman who would be my arch nemesis for the next two years.

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What’s Up Here?

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I was fairly new on the job. I’d been there just long enough to know there was a woman, my manager who would come downstairs, jump on her broom and terrorize the entire wing. 

She was a pretty woman, which made her more frightening. You could hear her coming, stomping along in her high heeled shoes. If her pace was quick, you knew she was coming for someone.

When she launched into a tirade, everyone would stop to listen. And after she left, no one worked, they were all busy talking about her.

I was located in the furthest cubicle from the elevator. One day the doors opened and the click, clack of her high heels echoed on the floor.

I knew she was coming for me.

She snapped around the corner, her skirt swishing with each step as she quickly narrowed the distance between us.

Her entire face was pursed, on the verge of venomous explosion.

“Deidra,” She spit out my name like my Dad did when I used his stamp collection to post Valentines Day cards in grade school.

“Wait,” I cut in, “I know you have a problem and I’m here to help you. But you need to go somewhere else and wipe that look off your face and get control of yourself before you speak to me again.”

She gasped.You could hear a pen drop and none did.

She started laughing. “Am I really that bad?” she asked.

“Yeah, you scare grown men.”

That year I dressed up like her for Halloween. Hey, I can ride a broom too.

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I received a text from an old friend. 

It read – I want to call you, what’s your phone number?

I replied – I think you just texted it.

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I have recipes from my great aunts, grandmothers and even great grandmothers. Many are really good. I don’t use those. Just as may are a bit weird if not down right crazy. 

For all of you foodies, I would like to introduce a recipe from my great aunt who was quite the entertainer.

WARNING: Do not try this at home. But if you do, let me know how it turns out.

She called this little ditty the Backwoods Sandwich Loaf. I found it in her What to Serve Men section.

It starts with a loaf of unsliced bread. Cut lengthwise into 7 layers.

On the bottom layer, spread mayonnaise and cheese spread. Place bread layer on top.

On this layer spread tuna salad. Place bread layer on top.

On the next layer spread mayonnaise, tomato slices, salt, pepper and, you got it, next bread layer on top.

Next layer, egg salad. I think you’ve got the hang of the next bread layer …

Add mayonnaise and deviled ham.

Up until now you’re thinking – What up with you, Dee? It’s a little weird but still edible. 

But wait, there’s more.

On the last later, add mayonnaise and peanut butter. Yikes.

Though I’ve laid eyes on this wonder, I’ve never tasted it. You wouldn’t catch me eating a cheese spread, tuna, egg, tomato, deviled ham, peanut butter sandwich. 

 

Besides, it was served to the men in the wood paneled den.

And as a young female, I was served in the pale blue formal livingroom. We dined on Melon Americans or Frosted Sandwiches. 

I don’t know where she came up with the names.

 

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