My Secret Source

Honest to goodness I plumb forgot to write yesterday. Imagine that. Well I suppose it’s good that work has been busy thus far. As much as I’d love to be making epic postings, that would suggest an abundance of down time, and I’ve had more than my fill of weekday downtime of late. I just got my pinky splint remolded this morning by my friendly rehabilitation specialist Pam. Last week when I met her, after finding out what I do, she told me that she had recently come up with an idea for a great comedy routine. She couldn’t think of it at the time but promised she would remember by my next appointment, which took place this morning. Needless to say the days couldn’t go by fast enough this past week as I awaited Pam’s delivery of what I could only assume would be 100% pure comic gold. As she began to manipulate my swollen knuckle I told her that I had a big show tomorrow night and I was counting on her to supply me with my material. Initially she merely teased me claiming that she still couldn’t remember, but that it was something really obvious, “real Seinfeld-like.” Terrific! I thought. Jerry Seinfeld is hilarious. If Pam can give me material of that caliber I’ll really be getting more than I bargained for when I first walked through these doors. I expected to strengthen my finger, not my act, but hey, far be it from me to turn down Seinfeldian insight. Then, as Pam sent a surge of fiery pain through my finger and up my arm by pressing down hard on my pinky nail, it came back to her. “Oh, I remember, now,” she exclaimed. Oh boy, oh boy, sock it to me, I thought, eager to hear my new killer bit. “I was talking to a friend about how sometimes you’re thinking about a lot of stuff and you forget what you’re doing, like if you’re in the shower and your thinking about what you need to do later and all of a sudden you realize you don’t remember what you’ve already washed. Did you get your arms? Did you do your privates? (Easy Pam, I try to keep my act clean) And then you end up just starting over and washing everything. Or the scariest is if you’re driving and you start daydreaming and then you snap out of it and you’re like whoa, I’ve been driving this whole time. But I think there could really be some funny stuff with the showering one.” So do I Pam, especially if I can figure out a way to make “privates” my big punchline. If you happen to be reading this Pam, forgive me. I don’t mean to be cruel. I only condescend because I have trouble expressing sincere appreciation. Please don’t mangle my pinky next Friday when I come back to see you. I’m sorry, I had nothing else to write about.

I watched a preposterous amount of college basketball this weekend. I cannot wait to watch incomprehensible amounts more in the weeks to come as the NCAA tournament nears. Any sports fan, from the most casual to the most diehard, who does not agree that the NCAA tournament is the best sporting event that exists is not only tragically misguided, but I think it’s safe to say that he/she is also a jerk and probably smells odd-not bad, just interesting.

Hey New York City, what’s the deal with your weather systems? One day you’re all sunny and warm and the next you’re all freezing cold and blizzard producing. I mean just when I think it’s safe to put my sweaters in storage, I need to wear three of them at once to stay warm. I’m just kidding, it’s never safe to put sweaters in storage- under any circumstances whatsoever. Global warming? More like global brrrrrrr!

Stay toasty.