A fibromite walks into a bar that she has frequented many times. She sits down on a bar stool and the bartender takes her order. "I would like a Coors Light", she tells him. A few mintues later, he brings her a gin and tonic, knowing a fibromite when he sees one. It's the sock cap and the whale blubber parka that gives her away. Oh, they can be so easily fooled.
"This isn't what I ordered...I asked for a rum and coke." she tells him. He smiles at her lack of memory. He mixes her a giant martini and sets it on the bar. "That's more like it," she says, asking him for a basket of pretzels. He drops a bowl of mixed nuts in front of her. "I wanted pop corn", she sighs. He returns with a monster platter of chicken wings. Cha Ching! "Now, that's being a good listener," she says.
about fifteen minutes later she finishes her drink and wings...motions for the bill. He slaps it down in front of her...$17.58. She reaches into her purse and flings two nickels and a fist full of pennies across the bar...then walks away....grinning. Who in their right mind is going to chase down a woman with a brass tipped cane?
She giggles on her way to the car. Next week she will start out asking for a glass of water. The foot long Philly Steak sandwiches are yummy!
Don't mess with a fibromite. 
Donna