This post contains two parts…at least, in my head...and at this particular moment. Where it’ll end, nobody knows. So, arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times people…you know the drill by now.
You know when you ask a guy what he’s thinking about and he’ll reply, “Nothing”?
By the way, I asked my friend Jerry Seinfeld what guys are really thinking about when we ask that question and you know what he said?
So, to all you guys out there: don’t shoot the messenger. Jerry says you may direct any hostility you’re feeling at this moment to his email at email@example.com.
Anyway. The thoughts here at Kathrynville? Never. Ever. Stop. It’s why I have insomnia so much of the time…and why I seriously need to be studied. And it’s not just that the thoughts keep coming fast and furious…it’s that they tend to zig-zag in ways that, while they can make perfect sense at the time…later on?? Not so much.
The other day, I was in the supermarket with my good friend Wanda Sykes. I’d remembered something important I needed to pick up whilst driving and tried to ask Wanda to write it down for me on “THE LIST”…but she had her iPod on...and her eyes closed...and was swaying so hard to the beat of her tunes, I needed to keep both hands on the steering wheel just to keep the car from careening off the road and into a ditch, where we’d be unseen by passers-by for days and we’d undoubtedly land in a poison ivy patch where my hands and feet would become immediately entangled and I’d die a slow and painful death while trying to live on the tic-tacs and mint-flavored toothpick I found in the bottom of my purse...and Wanda wouldn’t even notice any of this until her iPod battery died. Then she’d open her eyes and press the OnStar button (which she knows has been one of my life’s unfulfilled dreams…to push that damned button) and ask for help and also some ointment from CVS for a suspicious-looking rash.
Where was I? Oh, yeah….I’d died a slow and painful death…but with minty-fresh breath.
Actually, I found a pad of post-its in my car console…and ripping off a blank one, I managed to stuff it in my pocket without losing control of the car. See, I had a plan!
We had 6 things to pick up…only 6, according to the list…and Wanda took off like a cannon to accomplish our goal. But first, she put on her baseball hat, sunglasses and her ‘don’t-talk-to-me-or-I’ll-smack-you’ face…which works terribly well, ‘cause even I tend to back away. In about 5 minutes, she returned and gruffly announced that we were ready to check out.
I didn’t respond immediately…for I was deep in concentration…staring at the blank post-it in my hand. Wanda figured I didn’t realize the disguised individual was indeed she, so she removed her garb and looked down at the paper in my outstretched hand with a puzzled look on her face.
“This means something. We can’t leave till I remember…,” I said. Then I got a far-off look in my eye as I desperately tried to remember the meaning of my own cryptic message. Now, Wanda’s face looked like this:
I figured I had a good 60 seconds before she was gonna ask the store manager to call somebody to escort me out of there and into that pretty white truck with those nice young men in their clean white coats, so I thought really, really hard.
Yellow post it.
….torn in the middle….
…sort of reminded me of a pair of shorts….(albeit really ugly shorts, but nonetheless….)
…And that’s when Wanda gives me a look like THIS:
…and says, “Kathryn, WTF? Have you lost your mind? You’ve got 60 seconds to figure this out or I’m making that call. I’ve got ‘em here in speed dial….NUMBER THREE” and she’s pulling out her cell in preparation to make the call.
Then, it hits me:
“We need sponges,” I say casually.
I’ll say it again: I don’t understand why people never want to go shopping with me….