Maybe try ADT instead?
SCENE: On my couch. Night. Comfortably entwined with her.
Her: This is nice.
Me: Yep.
Her: I feel safe in your arms.
Me: It's a false security. My arms can't protect you from the cold hand of death.
Her: I think I'm going to go home.
Me: You should stay.
Her: Why? Isn't death going to get me anyways? What's the point?
Me: Your midsection is more comfortable than a pillow.
Her: Yeah, I'm leaving.
Me: Can you take the trash on your way out?
Big bag, extra-large dork
Hypothesis: The larger the backpack, the bigger the dork.
Sample: The high schoolers at this bus stop.
Conclusion: Hypothesis seems to be true based on the small sample size.
Examples…
Tall, lanky kid smoking a cigarette and wearing construction boots: tiny bag on his back, likely used to transport small amounts of marijuana and an iPad filled exclusively with adult movies. Has never finished a book in his life. Not a dork.
Pudgy, male Indian kid eating from an extra-large Pinkberry container: enormous backpack.
Short, jewy looking kid who definitely is in marching band: huge backpack AND gigantic rolling bag AND horrible acne he carries around using his face. Case closed.
Slightly taller jewy adult who was in marching band in high school, but is now desperately trying to look cooler than he did back then: shoulder bag, tripod for video camera, a Premium Thermal hot/cold bag containing food he has to bring to the video shoot. Nice one, self!
Other Conclusion: I may be worse than that kid with the rolling bag.
Death by pleasure
It’s amazing how things can change in an instant.
Last night I was eating dinner at home, watching a basketball game, when 85 mile per hour wind gusts began to make the satellite dish on my balcony shake. This was nothing new. My dish is anchored by two cinder blocks. It’s not going anywhere, I thought.
A minute later it was anchored by nothing. It was now flying around my balcony. It gusts once more, I think, and that thing is coming through my window.
I run outside and stabilize it.
My body is now being pummeled by 85 mile per hour winds. Bodies are not supposed to take such gusts, so I’m being thrown around a bit. I wrap my arms around the tripod that holds the dish up.
I try to force it through the sliding door, but it doesn’t fit. Of course.
This was a critical moment. I had to use my brain and what little brawn I had to wrestle this fucking thing inside my home.
Ten minutes later, it was inside. But for a second there out on the balcony, I imagined the dish breaking loose of my grip, hitting me in the head, and being left to die outside as winds pummeled my useless corpse.
The headline the next day in the Denver Post would read:
“MAN KILLED TRYING TO SAVE HIS SATELLITE DISH, THE ONLY THING HE EVER LOVED”
The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind
Me: It was really windy here last night.
Her: How windy was it?
Me: Really windy. Like 90 mph.
Her: Oh, I thought you were going to tell me a joke there.
Me: I'm not all jokes. I have some substance.
Her: I can't think of a single example of that.
Me: That one time I went to the library and checked out that book about science.
Her: You mean, "The Science of Gettin' Laid" by Dr. A. Hugedong M.D.?
Me: He's an established medical doctor at the Institute for Aw Yeah Son Do It.
Her: Right. And how'd that book work for you?
Me: I learned a lot. Did you know that a woman's labia can double as shelter for a family of four in cases of high winds?
Her: That must've come in handy for you last night.
Me: It did! I asked a woman to shelter me.
Her: How'd that turn out?
Me: Yeah, this cop's giving me shit about running out of time. Can you come bail me out? I'm downtown at the station, and I think it's only a matter of time before people start to realize I have no power and am not actually Michael Bloomberg's younger brother Moneystein Bloomberg.
*click*
Me: Baby?
How I imagine the party my company is throwing in Denver tonight will go
I walk into the dimly lit bar wearing my coolest clothes I definitely didn’t steal from T.J. Maxx. Everyone is holding martinis in their hand.
“Hi Lee!” everyone exclaims at the same time, with all the pretty girls saying it just a little bit louder to show how sexually excited they are to see me.
“Hi everyone!” I say, and slyly wink at all the pretty girls, but to the guys it just looks like I’m blinking.
One of the pretty girls approaches me.
“Lee! It’s been a long time! How are you, and why don’t you call me anymore?”
I smile because I knew this was coming, and had come up with the perfect response.
“I’ve been real busy working on my biceps. You know how it is.”
SCORE.
“No, I mean, why haven’t you left one of those long, rambling voicemails where you ask me out on a date, and then start listing out the dates you’re free anymore? Last time you called, you were on March 12, 2013.”
“I’ve been seeing a therapist.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Yeah, but mostly just workin on my bis and tris and quads.”
Never eat out
Me: I'm running early to dinner, so I'm going to get us a table when I get there.
Her: No need. I reserved us a table. I Opentable'd that shit.
Me: Great. I'm going to sit at that table and wait for you.
Her: No you're not.
Me: I'm not what?
Her: Sitting at the table before I get there.
Me: Umm, why not?
Her: Because we're eating together. You're not going to figure out what you want before I get there. Neither of us has been there, and I thought we were going to experience it together...
Me: We are going to go through it together. Our souls will be entwined over a cheese plate, baby.
Her: No. They won't be.
Me: It doesn't matter that I already looked at the menu online.
Her: Why?!
Me: I've looked at every menu in this town to decide what I'd want to eat if I got the chance.
Her: Jesus, you take the fun out of everything.
Me: I like being prepared.
Her: That's like asking someone to play Scrabble and then pre-filling out your part of the board.
Me: Like I'd ever play Scrabble with you again. Last time you kept asking me if "tainthead" was an allowed word, and then pointed at my head repeatedly.
Her: It's pronounced tainth-ead. Sounds like english from the olden days to me.
Serious issues
I hear my phone ring. I pick it up.
Me: Yes?
Capital One Account Fraud Rep: Yes, am I speaking to the Capital One accountholder at this number?
Me: Yes.
COAFR: Sir, have you noticed any fraudulent activity on your account?
Me: No, I don't believe so.
COAFR: Did you not change your password seven times today, sir?
Me: Oh, yes, that was me.
COAFR: Can I ask why you did that?
Me: No one emails me anymore.
COAFR: I'm sorry?
Me: If it weren't for your emails, no one would email me at all.
COAFR: I see.
Me: I'm lonely. I eat all my meals alone. I watch TV alone. I bathe alone.
COAFR: You bathe alone?
Me: Yeah, don't people who aren't lonely bathe with other people?
COAFR: I don't know how to reply to that. Do you not have friends?
Me: I bought a second iPhone so I could play Words With Friends against myself.
COAFR: Wow. Ok, back to this email issue.
Me: Look, I know when I reply that it's to an unmonitored account, so it feels good to write what's on my mind. Those "Your Password Has Been Changed" emails are much cheaper than therapy.
COAFR: Sir, our Change Password feature cannot be abused like that. I ask that you please not change your password so frequently for the sole purpose of the email you receive in return.
Me: I haven't had sex in seven years.
COAFR: Ok, we'll make an exception for you, sir.
Me: I really like talking to you! By the way, those commercials you have with Jimmy Fallon are hilarious!
*click*
Me: Are you there?
*dialtone*
Me: Anyways, Alec Baldwin is funny in them too. You should hire the rest of NBC's lineup to do your commercials. Have you considered hiring The Voice from NBC's The Voice?
A surefire way to make everything you’re saying sound ridiculous
- “Bro, I have a dream that one day this nation will bro out and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We bro these bros to be self-evident, that all bros are created equal.” - Martin Luther King Jr. Bro
- “Bro, every science has for its basis a system of principles as fixed and unalterable as those by which the broniverse is regulated and governed. Bros cannot make principles; bros can only discover them.” - Thomas “Brody” Paine
- “An excellent bro; he has no enemies; and none of his bros like him.” - Oscar Wildebro
- “Come at me, bro!” - Ronnie from Jersey Shore
One sentence story time
This one time I was making lunch and singing that James Blunt song, “You’re Beautiful” around my apartment, and the girl who had slept over the night before thought I was singing to her, but I wasn’t, so I told her I sometimes sing that song to sandwiches.
Kiss me.
SCENE: sitting on my couch in my apartment, 7pm
Me: I really want to kiss you.
Her: It's probably best you didn't.
Me: Why? Why else would you have come up to my apartment if you didn't want me to make a move on you?
Her: Oh, I heard you had HBO.
Me: You heard?
Her: Well, you mentioned it at dinner. You said, "I have HBO." Then you asked me if I was impressed. I wasn't, but I do love True Blood, so I thought maybe I could catch up on last season.
Me: Didn't you think that coming here might give me the wrong idea?
Her: I didn't really think about it.
Me: Ok, this pains me to say, but for some reason I still want to kiss you.
Her: Yeah, I'm much better looking than you. That makes sense.
Me: But you still won't kiss me?
Her: If you'll shut up so I can watch these vampires fuck, I'll think about it.
(Silence for three uninterrupted hours of True Blood episodes.)
Me: Can I kiss you now?
Her: Sure.
Me: Ok, I'm going to use my tongue.
Her: Gross. Look, I can't do this.
Me: You just made me watch three hours of True Blood!
Her: Fine, just kiss me on the cheek.
I kiss her on the cheek.
Her: For some reason that felt creepier.
Me: I still used my tongue.
3.
