I’m not done yet. You thought I was done, didn’t you? More Post-its…more muddled thoughts. It has to go somewhere, people...
I’d sent myself this email message a week ago:
Med for shirt w/food fa$lling into stOm$ach. Dfoodsbnasrt. For bluh grey key li$me glaro mesds.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Yes, I sent it from my bed…to my computer…via my Blackberry. Now, I’ll admit…I may not have this typing thing down just yet. All I remember was that I was too tired to get up and search for pen and paper…but I didn’t want to forget, dammit. “Forget what?” you ask. I’m not quite sure. All I can safely decipher is something about key lime gelato…I think. I’m open to suggestions…’cause I know it’s tres important.
Something reminded me of ink blots the other day. I know this because I have a Post-it, so that makes it so. Let’s interpret, shall we? Clinton Kelly (my ever-patient, stirred-not-shaken IV needs to help. Evidently, he’s been locked up for too long…and he really should stretch those long legs.)
Clinton: “It’s one of those Power-Ranger-Deltoid-Mechanical-Teddy-Bear-Robot-Thingies.”
Kathryn: “What? Seriously? It so…is not. It’s clearly a woman lying on her back whilst the blanket that was covering her has burst into tall, angry, maniacal flames, with a generic skull and crossbones interpretation in the subsequent smoke that ensued.”
Clinton: (Frowning) “Huh. That’s what you see? In number 1…?”
Kathryn: “Uh-huh. See? There’s her little feet…facing us. I wanna say, ‘GET UP, LITTLE LADY….YOU ARE ON FIRE’ but I’m assuming she’s aware.”
Clinton: “It’s Count Chockula with the cape and - - -“
Kathryn: “Nope. It’s obviously Telly Savalas posing for an x-ray. He must be doing a PSA for lung cancer. See all those spots around his head? That’s ‘cause he’s dizzy from all that smoking. I didn’t realize his ears were that big.”
Kathryn: “Bite me. NEXT!”
Kathryn: “This one is clearly the direct result of a sledding accident involving someone wearing a string bikini. See? Cup…cup….and thong. What a shame…now it’s all twisted. Further proof of the dangers of tequila and sledding.”
Clinton: “And speaking of twisted…”
Kathryn: “Okay. You can do the next one, Mr. Smarty Pants.”
Clinton: “WTF? It’s ink-blot fashion. It’s hurting my eyes…”
Kathryn: “Huh. How did that get in there? Look at those really pointy shoulder pads…”
Clinton: “It’s an origami nightmare. Moving on…”
Kathryn: “Only 1 more Post-it! I’d like to know why they put the cranberry sauce in the cereal aisle….it’s the last place I’d ever look. The lady checking me out was trying to explain to me that you can evidently take the plastic grocery bags and reuse 'em by cutting the bottom and crocheting something....with something else that sounded suspiciously crafty-like...(I may have actually blanked out for a few seconds around this part)...through the middle and turn them into decorative bath mats for camping and other insanely barbaric rituals. The ‘insanely barbaric ritual'-part is my take on it. You got that, right? 'Cause I'm such an enthusiastic little camper....not.”
Clinton: “I’m sorry…the lady was checking you out?”
Kathryn: “That’s what you took from that paragraph? I do believe we’re done here. Let’s go see what we can make with a nail file, a thumb tack, some peanuts and a baggie.”