- One day Joey, a colleague at a a junk mail company in Virginia, told me about a brief conversation with his seven year old son.
Seven Year Old: "Girls are different from boys."
Joey: "Really? How's that?"
Seven Year Old: "Boys got muscles. Girls got legs."
Joey: "Umm. Yeah. Let's not share that with your mother just yet."
- One morning Joey spent the first couple of hours at work with a very amused smile on his face. After a while I asked him what was so funny.
He told me that his wife had told him that he had been tossing, turning, and mumbling in his sleep and at some point she shook his shoulder and said his name, with no effect. She tried again, harder and louder, and he sat up in bed, scowled at her, and said, "Where have you been and what are you doing with that fire hydrant?"
- At the weekly bridge session at Sambo's in Sierra Vista, Arizona, there was a mixture of civilians, military, military wifes, retired military, and so on. Very occasionally a few of us would visit the lounge after bridge, have a drink and chat about nothing in particular.
One night a Mrs. Moore, wife of a non-bridge playing colonel, joined us. She warned us that she had a very low tolerance for alcohol, and sure enough, about halfway through one drink she was flying.
At some point, out of a clear blue sky, she looked across the table at me and asked "Who's your favorite poet, Donnie?"
I decided to have some fun with her, thought quickly, and said "Ogden Nash."
"OGDEN NASH?! He's a shitass."
This brought down the house, of course, and I confessed fondness for Kipling and Coleridge, both of whom I consider underrated. I hasten to add, however, that I am no poetry expert.
Several days later I ran into one of the players downtown, the wife of a captain, who told me Mrs. Moore sent her apologies for the outburst, and I asked her to tell Mrs. Moore that she had been provoked.