I save money by crying all I want and for as long as I want. On @John Brunner 's "pee your pants" parlor I save money staying home to do that too.
Well, if you throw the pickle at the windows of the stress-causer, you're probably not gonna get into too much trouble. Just don't yell "Pickle Surprise!" when you do it.
I make all sorts of "Don't wet your pants" jokes with the receptionists at my urologist. They had a canned food drive over the holidays and I told them I was discreet enough to not include peas.
Definitely, only I'd put a certain "lame-brain Leftist" pic on there and the bullet holes would be in different places.
OMG! It gets worse? How old before these "mental scales" develop and start crusting? What else haven't I been told about aging?
Some handle humor better than others. Some just groan, having heard 'em all. I was in for a test where they pump stuff in filling you to the brim, then snake a camera up there and show you the screen narrating the bladder travelogue. Afterward you have to eliminate the contents into a basin and they measure the volume "So get it all out!" I got laugh asking for helpful music as the doc pulled the screen to give me privacy (huh? privacy now?? there were three students hanging around while the roto-rooter was snaked up into me). "Huh? What music?" from the other side of the screen. I said "I'm thinking America, maybe Amber Cascades?"
Not to worry. From my understanding, when the Zombie apocalypse comes about, they know how to scrape the scales AND the crust off of brains before they eat them.
A bit of retail therapy works for me. A nice wander round the shops, buying things on impulse helps to disperse the blues.