Sign of an Actual Idiot
"Mmmmmyello? Can you hear me OK? Oh, good. Yeah, no big deal, I just staple gunned my phone to my head, and hot glued my stapler to my palm for this new thing I'm trying called maximum efficiency."
A few nights ago, shooting the breeze with friends, I said something that got us all laughing. Once the post-chuckle sighs softened, I reached into my bag to get my comedy notebook out, also known as "The Mighty Tablet of Priceless Plaisanteries et Génie", only to find a well-worn outline in my purse-lining for where my notebook normally rests.
This stuff killed at "Funkle Unny's Tickle Bone" last week.
"Uch, I forgot my notebook." I turned to one friend, whom I've delightfully dubbed the "Memory Robot" for her unbelievable mind-skillz (for example: Me: "Hey, what do you think of this shirt?" Her: "I love it! Remember? I told you that night you wore it to the barn dance in 1865." and I'm all "Oh yeah! At the Emancipation Celebration... I did look good that night!"), and asked her to flash-memorize my idea so that I could write it down later.
"You. Looked. Great. Master."
Someone else remarked that instead of relying on a "Memory Robot", I should just text message myself the joke for later. It seemed so simple, and yet it had never occured to me before. After requisite high fives, down lows, too slows, I whipped out my cell phone (made of an old syringe, a pickle jar, and a rat's foot) and clumsily entered the "inspired" joke into my phone. Once it was all said and done, I hit send, snapped it shut, and put it back in my purse.
A minute or so later, my phone became aglow, and played the sample from "Every-body Dance Now! Dunh. Dunh, dunh dunh, dunh!" A ringtone that easily embarasses me everytime I am alone and in public, and yet is easily worth it for the laugh.
"OH! SOMEBODY SENT ME A TEXT MESSAGE!" If my heart was a little balloon, picture a legless orphan blowing it up with joy. I eagerly dug into my satchel, only to find a text message from MYSELF that read: "Shitting a dick."
It was then that I realized: It is a shame I can't afford therapy. Also -- anyone know if Belleview Mental Institution has an actual view of a bell? Cause that actually doesn't sound too bad. It was also then that I realized that no text message could fill my infinite void of loneliness.***
***JK. I'm loaded with friends. Check out my MySpace page for God's sake! Almost 300 friends! (Read: Faceless strangers.) Thanks again you guys.
p.s. I'm super-salad psyched about the bit...
"So, there I am, shitting a dick, and... (pause) Hello?"