Back in the day, sometime after 1960 when she became a widow, my grandmother bought a 10 pound lobster. It was a pretty extravagant gesture. She put it in the pot and left to visit her sister-in-law who lived down the street. (Remember, she's no chef.) (But back in the day, everyone lived dangerously.) When she returned, the lobster was gone. So she did what any right thinking person would do and called the police.
The conversation that ensued resulted in this gem:
"I'm just a poor widow with a 10 pound lobster."
The police thought it was a riot too.
Now, in our family, we use this phrase whenever we want to emphasize the oxymoronic nature of a situation. In our family, you never live anything down.