Lorrie stressed me out today. She sent me an email that commanded me to be funny. But, chickens, I am no trained chimp! This hilarity takes MINUTES of careful planning in which I consume Butterfinger bites and check myself for chin hairs. It’s a science.
So, I did the only thing I could do. I texted my friend Frank and said “Do something humorous that I can blog”. Wouldn’t you know that he, too, is not a trained chimp? What the hell? AND THEN he had the nerve to ask why I wasn’t doing work?! So I’m all; DUDE. I am getting FREE BLOG PIMPING today and I have no inspiration. NONE. Nothing funny happened yesterday. Nothing funny happened this morning. No one of dubious character hit on me this morning and that weird guy with the “lifted” ten speed is no where to be found. I am desperate here. This blog could be my launching pad to Oprah! And you know what that ass said to me?
Frank: If excuses were the equivalent of the 100 yard dash you would be Carl Lewis!!!!!
me: Ah, you're sweet.
Frank: I know, like a pickle
me: ew. I HATE sweet pickles!
Frank: Really
me: yep. They're an affront to the pickle species.
Frank: Ok then
I am sweet like a sweet tart?
me: I DO like those.
you may be a sweet tart.
AND EVEN THAT IS NOT FUNNY.
You know what that means? That means all my comments are going to say “YOU SUCK” and I’m going to get all depressed and stop combing my hair (which looks real cute today - see?)
So, I did the only thing I could do. I texted my friend Frank and said “Do something humorous that I can blog”. Wouldn’t you know that he, too, is not a trained chimp? What the hell? AND THEN he had the nerve to ask why I wasn’t doing work?! So I’m all; DUDE. I am getting FREE BLOG PIMPING today and I have no inspiration. NONE. Nothing funny happened yesterday. Nothing funny happened this morning. No one of dubious character hit on me this morning and that weird guy with the “lifted” ten speed is no where to be found. I am desperate here. This blog could be my launching pad to Oprah! And you know what that ass said to me?
Frank: If excuses were the equivalent of the 100 yard dash you would be Carl Lewis!!!!!
me: Ah, you're sweet.
Frank: I know, like a pickle
me: ew. I HATE sweet pickles!
Frank: Really
me: yep. They're an affront to the pickle species.
Frank: Ok then
I am sweet like a sweet tart?
me: I DO like those.
you may be a sweet tart.
AND EVEN THAT IS NOT FUNNY.
You know what that means? That means all my comments are going to say “YOU SUCK” and I’m going to get all depressed and stop combing my hair (which looks real cute today - see?)
Just kidding. Although, that would be fabulous. I should wear my hair like that to work. Now this
Just looks boring. GREAT. ONE MORE THING TO STRESS ABOUT. I'm not funny and my cute hair isn't cute.)
I will have to resort to doing ACTUAL work and by the time I get home I’ll be all exhausted (and will not get any damn sleep because of these two)
Which means will NEVER launch my career as a gift bag gift picker, I will never get interviewed on the local news by someone with a lisp and mall bangs, I will NEVER be witty and charming and attract the attention of a vacationing TV producer who will NEVER want me to talk about my successful Gift Bagging/Blogging life on a somewhat nationally syndicated evening infotainment program which will NEVER get seen by a Harpo producer and I will NEVER EVER get to meet Oprah.
SO THANKS A LOT FOR KILLING MY DREAMS LORRIE.
GOD.
Posts
4 little kittens say Meow:
Wow.
Your dog has really big balls.
I KNOW. I should get him snipped, but he just loves to lick them SO MUCH.
Some people are so demanding!!
Be funny!!
Be taller!!
Be smarter!!
And I can only do one thing at a time!!
O PULEEZE. You think Oprah stresses when Gayle says "Go out and say something pompous and sanctimonious that Women across America will TAKE AS GOSPEL. No. She. Does. Not.
I am just encouraging you to do what you already do naturally. Which,Ii might add, is not something I usually do with people of reproductive age.
I will make you the mug of your choice--eme.
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