The first time you needed help, I helped you.
And you thanked me.
But when I needed help, where were you?
“I’m busy,” you said.
Busy.
I got through it on my own, but it hurt. A lot.
You live, you learn.
And you remember these things.
Now you’re back, all bloody and begging for help again.
No.
Don’t spit in my face and tell me it’s a long-distance kiss, baby.
I know the difference.
And you know the difference.
It takes a lot of strength to put the past behind us.
I slowly close the door, and whisper “Goodbye.”
Tag: society
Shampoopoo
Every week, shampoo manufacturers come up with a new formula that incorporates some obscure and absurd natural ingredient like monkeypuzzle tree oil or himalayan yak scrotum shavings.
Sure, the supermodels in the commercials are practically orgasmic over their shiny and bouncy full hair, but all I ever want is to shed less dandruff and not smell like a flower shop.
Nope. It’s impossible to get shampoo without this wacky Amazonian rainforest crap in it anymore. I’m stuck with hyacinth pollen extract reviving my roots and Mongolian rose elbows on my split ends.
No wonder why Bruce Willis shaves his head.
Pike’s Peak
For the life of me, I don’t remember where Pike’s Peak is.
I could Google it, but that takes effort. I’d have to close this window, open another, and then type it in.
Thank goodness for my iPhone. I can just hold the button down, ask Siri where Pike’s Peak is, and I’ll know the answer.
Siri shows me Pike’s Peak of Texas, a floral shop that’s up the Inner Loop, near the Northwest Freeway.
Shit.
Where is the mountain Pike’s Peak?
Siri responds with a vague map with a red dot in… Colorado? Nevada?
I’ll just fucking Google it.
Balancing Act
The flight to Portland is full, and all the overheads are full of cruelty-free carbon-neutral backpacks.
“You’ll need to check your roll-on,” says the gate attendant.
I walk to my seat, but a bearded hipster is already in it.
“Dude,” he growls.
The stewardess apologizes and guides me to another seat.
“We had to move passengers around to balance the sarcasm and irony.”
I sit down, stuck between two reeking natives too cool for deodorant.
Forget flotation device. Can a seat be used as a gas mask?
An alarm goes off.
The stewardess says I’ve set off the sarcasm alarm.
Haunted
Blake ran the video arcade at the mall until a poorly-grounded Galaga box electrocuted him.
When the real estate company tried to put a shoe store in that location, Blake’s ghost scared off all the customers with all his yelling and throwing things around.
Same with the novelty gift shop, the jeans outlet store, and the cell phone place.
Exorcists and supernatural “experts” failed to remove Blake.
So, we put a laser tag maze in the spot, but called it Ghost Hunters.
It would work better if Blake wore a sheet instead of a Pac Man tee-shirt and jeans, though.
Kit Cat
I was watching a candy bar commercial on TV and there was a website address.
I looked up the site, and it asked what country I’m in.
America.
And it showed me the candy bar commercial.
I reloaded the page, but this time, I told it I was in England.
Same graphics, but this time they listed different flavors.
Mint… Orange… Caramel…
“Why don’t we have those?” I said.
“Can’t you just buy caramel at the store for dipping?” said my roommate.
“They think we’re simple,” I grumbled. “Stupid. Ignorant.”
We sat in silence as the TV blared more nonsense.
Adopt A Minefield
Someone told me that there was a charity called “Adopt-A-Minefield.”
I needed a tax write-off, so I sent them a check.
A few days later, I received an envelope from them that contained a receipt and brochures.
They detailed their global projects to eliminate landmines from current and former war zones so that farmers could farm fields and kids could play safely.
One day, they hoped to create a landmine-free world.
I dropped the brochure in horror.
Clear mine fields?
Ban landmines?
I logged into my website, landminesforsale.com, and checked the sales figures.
Good numbers.
I sighed in relief.
Lifetime listening
They say that a CD should provide a lifetime’s listening enjoyment if you handle it properly, but it turns out that even a scratch-free CD will degrade over time because the data layer was often made of cheap material. And even though some CDs had a Gold layer for the data layer, the laminate used for the CD still can degrade.
This is not a problem if you plan on dying young, like all of your rockstar heroes. Or if you just buy one hit wonders and crappy music that you never want to hear when you’re fifty or sixty.
The Chant
The teacher collected the permission slips, smiled, and began to chant.
Smoke filled the room, and a swirling portal opened in the middle of the blackboard.
The students rose up from their desks and flew through the door into the Shadow Zone.
Once the last student went through the portal, the smoke cleared.
The teacher sat back in his chair, put his feet on the desk, and enjoyed the silence.
The students would be back when the candle went out.
Candle?
Oh oh. He forgot to light the candle.
He pulled out his cell phone and called the union representative.
Super Pirate
It’s hard enough hosting a Super Bowl party, but my drunk friend Sylvia decided to bring Pirate Lord Redbeard along as her date, and things were getting tense.
He kept calling for grog, but all we’ve got is light beer.
Then, someone pissed him off by saying “On the other hand” when you can see clear as day that he’s got a hook on his other hand.
“Sorry, I got off on the wrong foot there” was their attempt at an apology.
Redbeard stomped the jackass with his peg leg and stormed off.
Well, shit. Better prepare to repel boarders.